Keep It on the Down Low
by Embrasia
Summary: Can Gwen & Arthur keep their steamy affair a secret from her mob boss boyfriend during prohibition era? Can Arwen resist their passions when Gwen enrolls as Arthur's underage student? In this series of sexy short stories some are Arthur/Gwen, some are not. Descriptions for each story inside. There is no need to read in order :)
1. Keep It on the Down Low

**Prohibition era Arwen:** **Gwen's relationship with Cenred has run its course. She needs to break things off, but when your lover is a notorious gangster leaving him is not an option; even if you've fallen in love with another. Can Gwen & Arthur keep their affair on the down low? Or will Harlem's most notorious mob boss rain grave consequences upon them?**

Keep It on the Down Low

_Harlem, New York 1931…_

It wasn't 10:00pm and Cenred's underground club was jumping. Every poker, roulette, and craps table was filled with ecstatic gamblers. The place smelled like a pleasant mixture of multiple perfumes, colognes, and expensive cigars. The women were in elegant beaded gowns and the men were decked out in expensive suits with fedoras. Cenred had the only joint in Harlem that allowed both white and black patrons to enter; though they sat on separate sides of the club and danced on separate sides of the dance floor. Some of his patrons didn't care for this mixing of the races but tolerated it because they had nowhere else to buy high quality booze. This was a time of Prohibition: the distribution and consumption of alcohol had been illegal since 1919 causing people to turn to notorious bootleggers and smugglers like Cenred Daronco. A roar of applause from both black and white patrons rang throughout the lofty club as the phenomenal vocalist Ella Fitzgerald stepped up to the microphone and the incredible Duke Ellington sat at the bench of the beautiful grand piano. Pretty Flapper girls in short shimmering dresses danced on the right side of the stage, their legs swinging from side to side in that strange but enchanting style. as Duke and Ella performed a popular hit:

_It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)__  
__It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)__  
__It makes no difference If it's sweet or hot__  
__Just give that rhythm Everything you've got__  
__It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)_

Jazz was born in New Orleans and so was Cenred's Creole girlfriend, the beautiful Gwen La`Cour. Gwen had short raven hair that bore deep sea like waves. She wore a shimmering sequenced headband adorned with an elegant feather. She screamed excitedly and leapt into Cenred's arms without care that they were in public.

"How did you pull this off?!" She could not conceal her excitement. The girl had Jazz in her blood and Cenred was always surprising her with the up and coming greats.

A smile lit his handsome olive toned face, "Are you pleased?"

She didn't have words to say just how pleased she was so she simply nodded. Gwen pulled the expensive fedora from his head and sat it on the table. She lead him out on the dance floor ignoring the surreptitious glances and whispers in regard to Cenred flaunting his "Colored Broad".

Gwen and her guy joined the innumerable others, happily dancing in a swinging form as Ella Fitgerald and Duke Ellington continued to enchant the masses.

_It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)__  
__It makes no difference If it's sweet or hot__  
__Just give that rhythm Everything you've got__  
__It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)_

Gwen grinned from ear to ear as Cenred swung her and spun her around before pulling her back into his arms. She loved nights like these, times when she saw a glimmer of the orphaned Italian boy her parents took into their home. It hadn't been easy for Cenred to grow up in an all black neighborhood in the bayou but Gwen was always there to defend him. She was his best friend in the world and by high school they were lovers.

_It makes no difference. If it's sweet or hot__  
__Just give that rhythm Everything you've got__  
__It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing_

_(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)_

_It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing__  
__(doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah)_

Gwen took a moment to catch her breath from their rather spirited dance as the master of ceremonies announced the next performers, a man called Benny Goodman and his orchestra.

"Where's his vocalist," Gwen heard a voice say.

She turned to meet the stormy blue eyes of Cenred's right hand man, Arthur Pendragon. Arthur's short blonde locks were parted at the side and slicked down. He'd removed his dress coat and she could see the black suspenders glowing against the contrast of his white button down shirt. Gwen instinctively straightened his bow tie for him, forgetting for just that instant that they were not together, though it felt as though they should be. Her actions earned them a funny glare from Cenred who soon brushed off the possibility. No woman would be unfaithful to a man who could have her killed with a snap of his fingers.

Arthur snickered, "How is this Goodman fellow going to perform a song entitled _Sing, Sing, Sing _with no vocalist?"

Cenred happily explained to the naive northern bred Arthur, "Because he's about to make that horn sing. Wait and see."

"Somehow I doubt that," Arthur scoffed and waived his boss off, "The man has a clarinet. No respectable man plays a clarinet."

Gwen huffed. Arthur could be so close minded at times, but no less loveable. All eyes turned center stage as Benny Goodman pushed his glasses up on his slender nose and put the horn to his lips. Arthur had to eat every word at the revelation of this incredible musician's magnificence. The man played with a divinity, capturing the crowd. Every shoe was out on the dance floor as Arthur watched Guinevere from the sideline. She and Cenred were swinging and spinning and dancing to the upbeat tune. And Arthur had to admit that the boss' girl looked beautiful when she danced. The jazz loving Guinevere was truly in her element.

Though quickly and deftly moving their feet Cenred and Gwen were just inches apart. She gazed up into his chestnut eyes, her arms snaking around his neck, practically begging him for a kiss like the beautiful embraces they shared long ago. But like usual Cenred bypassed her lips and pecked her chastely on the cheek. Gwen was reminded in that instant of just what she'd become to him. She was like that rocking chair in the corner of a room that you never touch anymore, but still cannot bring yourself let go. The chair has been in your life for so long that looking at it every day gives you a sense of comfort and stability. To see it makes you feel at home even when all hell is breaking loose around you. Gwen didn't want to be an untouched chair, she yearned to be a lover and Cenred's heart had moved on to a woman named Morgause though his mind and soul stayed with Gwen. Gwen was his best friend, his ever steady foundation, his rock. Cenred would wreak unspeakable vengeance upon any man who dared take away his best friend.

Over the months as Cenred came to her bed less and less Arthur began to fill the void. At first the handsome strapping bodyguard merely fulfilled a physical need but in time she fell in love with Arthur and his very soul loved her: a woman who was trapped in a relationship with a mob boss. Cenred would kill them both if he knew that they were making love behind his back.

Gwen and Cenred left the dance floor at the end of the song. He pulled out his pocket watch. They had to make haste. He was the lead bookie and numbers man and it was nearly time for the Heavy Weight fight to begin.

Arthur approached and draped the floor length fur coat over Gwen's bare shoulders. Gwen, Arthur, and Cenred headed out into the freezing snowy weather of a Harlem night. Arthur pulled the elongated Mercedes Benz around to meet his charges. The car was beautiful with a decorative tire placed up on each side. Another consolation gift from Cenred to Gwen because their relationship had run its course but he could not, would not, let her go.

Arthur opened the door and Gwen ducked into the back seat followed by Cenred. She blew warm moist air into her palms to warm them. Cenred smiled at her with amusement. They'd left the south a couple years ago due to the Great Depression but Gwen still was not use to the frigid winters of New York. He clasped her hands between his to warm them and she smiled softly at him. But as she went for a kiss he turned his cheek to her.

She sighed. _Cenred will not be with me and he will not be without me..._

xXx

As the roaring arena watched the heavy weight title fight on the edge of their seats Arthur's only interest was Gwen. His love for her put them both at risk and yet he could not stay away from her. There was just something about this woman that called to the soul of him.

_Listen girl you want me but he needs you__  
__Yet you're telling me that everything is cool__  
__Trying to convince me baby to do as you say__  
__Just go along and see things your way_

_And keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know__  
__We can keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know_

"Guinevere, you know we shouldn't be doing this," Arthur whispers lustfully.

"I am sorry but this urge required immediate tending to, and you are the only one to sate it," Gwen whispers back in the small, rather cramped closet of the boxing arena, perfect for a quickie.

She stifles a moan as Arthur runs his amazing tongue along the curves and valleys of her neck. Gwen wiggles slightly but finds herself squished up next to Arthur and her bare leg, exposed by the high split of her dress, is rubbing against his crotch. Arthur moans, low and loud, forcing Gwen to clap a hand over his mouth.

She sighs, in the darkness. "If we do this, we need to be as quiet as possible."

Gwen can feel Arthur smirk against her palm. When she removes her hand, Arthur states sensually, "I find it hard to keep quiet with you."

Gwen is about to reply when Arthur takes her hand and kisses the palm of it. He rubs it with his thumb and smiles sweetly at her. She always wonders how Arthur can be so irresistible, and she finally gives in, leans forward, and captures his lips with her own. This kiss is heated, passionate, and clothes begin to shed. Arthur is cupping Gwen's now bare breast, running a thumb over a dark nipple and loving the moan that leaves his forbidden lover's mouth. The rowdy noise of the arena is able to drown out most of the wanton noises, as the two are making a lot of sound; eliciting moans and groans with every tender kiss, every sweet caress of each other's bodies…

_Secret lovers is what you wanna be__  
__While making love to him girl you're silently calling on me__  
__What is a man to do in a situation like this?__  
__I feel there is something that I don't wanna miss_

_Keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know__  
__We can keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know_

Arthur can no longer contain himself. He hoists Gwen up and leans her against the storage room wall. "Ready Guinevere?" He asks.

Gwen, panting slightly, nods her consent. Arthur proceeds to enter her while pressing his lips against hers, shivering delightedly as her warmth envelopes him. They break apart for breath as he begins his stroking.

"Arthur!" Gwen scream-whispers, wrapping her arms around his slowly working back. Arthur moves sensually at first, savoring every second but as passion builds so does his speed. Soon he is thrusting inside of Gwen, barely able to keep himself from screaming her name.

"Arthur oh my god," Gwen bites her lip to keep from screaming out of lust and love and everything she feels for Arthur. She rakes her nails over the strong muscles of his back. Close, they are both so close. Suddenly-

"Now hold on, I'm sure there's a mop in here!" They cringe at the voice of the skinny dark haired ticket clerk, muffled by the door.

"It's Merlin!" Gwen whispers, panics.

The door is flung open to reveal Merlin in all his glory, his smiling face suddenly shocked at the image before him. The couple stares at the fair skinned, wide-eyed, fellow before Arthur reaches beside him and grabs a mop, gingerly handing it to Merlin.

Merlin takes it, still speechless, before his Uncle Gaius calls, "Merlin, you find a mop in there?"

Merlin turns slightly. "Sure did!" He turns back and winks at them before grabbing the door handle and closing it, encasing Arthur and Gwen in darkness once more.

"Well… that was… strange," Gwen says, struggling to find the words that describe how awkward she feels.

But Arthur is insatiable. In a matter of seconds he is inside of her once more, her gentle moans like music to his ears as he makes love to her. If Merlin tells Cenred, Arthur is a dead man so he might as well make this night worth his while, worth his death.

_Beautiful you are but you're his by far__  
__Coming by my way driving his fancy car__  
__Making plans to be in my life forever__  
__Tell me, tell me that we'll always be together_

_Keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know__  
__We can keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know_

Before long Gwen is sitting once more at Cenred's side. Overwhelmed by lust, and love, and passion Arthur released inside of her tonight. She will be on pins and needles chewing off her fingernails until she gets her monthly cycle, if she gets her monthly cycle. As the rounds drone on and the giants slug it out in the ring Gwen sees Arthur gazing longingly at her. Cenred places an arm around Gwen's shoulders and she forces her eyes away from Arthur. Then Cenred picks the worst time in the world to kiss her straight on the mouth passionately, a sign that he may actually want to make love when they get home. Will he notice that Arthur has had her first? The frightening thought causes Gwen to gasp out of the kiss. When Gwen comes up for air she can see the tears in Arthur's eyes, his sorrow matching that of her own. But she isn't his and can never be. She shuts her eyes to pinch back her tears as she expectantly dotes on her crime boss boyfriend. For Arthur's own safety she will end the affair as soon as they steal a moment to talk. The two were never supposed to fall in love; this wasn't part of the plan. They were just two people sneaking around, fucking and loving, and keeping it on the down low…

_I won't whisper a word_

_How can you go so long, so long_

_Keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know__  
__We can keep it on the down low__  
__Nobody has to know…_

**Author's Note: the song **_**Down Low**_** belongs to R. Kelly. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

**-Embrasia-**


	2. Percival's First Time

**Description: It's exactly how it sounds. Percival gets his V card swiped in modern day Roswell, New Mexico. I posted this here in order to keep sex out of my upcoming Alien fic. :^)**

Percival's First Time

Percival Miller was somewhere between an Abercrombie model and a Greek God. The first time Morgana Pendragon laid eyes on him he was walking into her Biology 209 class wearing ripped jeans and a university football jersey of emerald and ivory. Most women had to wring out their panties at the vision of this demi god, at the sound of his voice: like muted thunder. But all Morgana could think as he removed his back pack and claimed the stool next to her was: _Please God don't let me be partnered with another dumb jock. I've_ _met guys like him before: beautiful and athletically gifted. They are lazy when it comes to everything but their sport of choice and they want everything handed to them. I have to carry their weight the whole semester in order to receive good marks. I am a junior now, a woman, and I am not about to take shit off of some fucking freshman who just left his momma's house and doesn't know how to wipe his own ass!_

Prior to class Professor Morgause had written everyone's names on Popsicle sticks. The wood shards rattled inside the old coffee can as she shook them around. The beautiful but extremely mean professor began pulling sticks two at a time and calling out this semester's pairs. Some students were high fiving partners they knew prior to class. Others were excitedly greeting unfamiliar faces. To Morgana's misfortune she was stuck with the last person she ever wanted to work with… Percival Miller.

"Howdy," He greeted in the deep southern accent of a farm raised boy.

"Hello," She droned with an exasperated breath and a roll of her big green eyes.

The friendly stranger extended a massive hand which she stared at indignantly for a full ten seconds before grudgingly shaking. She gathered most of the supplies since she was an actual science major and Percival was unfamiliar with many of the lab instruments; he had brought her the wrong microscope and a graduated cylinder that was far too small for the kind of measurements they would be taking. To make matters worse, Morgana's predictions were ringing true. He could barely read and it took him far too long to get through each section. As they were forced to stay over late to finish up she cursed the fates, the Goddess, and her ironclad bitch of a teacher.

By the second week Morgana was in her Professor's office slamming her fists down on the woman's desk, "I demand another partner! Do you know who my father is?!"

"I don't give a damn who your father is!" Professor Morgause told the disgruntled upperclassman, "If you didn't want to be stuck with a freshman football player then you should not have procrastinated so long in taking Human Anatomy."

Percival listened from the corridor feeling lower than dirt, lower than the worms that tunnel in the dirt. He had come to ask the Professor a question but now he just wanted to shrink and disappear. The last thing he yearned for was to hinder the next person's education. His head lowered and his large shoulders slumped forward in shame. He walked away before Morgana could ever know he had heard every nasty and belligerent insult. He left before he could explain that he really was trying his best.

xXx

Morgana walked into class the following morning and noticed that her partner wasn't there. The class continued to fill and still no Percival. The students parted way as she stormed across the bustling lab.

She marched over to her partner's friend, Gwaine, and inquired as to Percival's whereabouts, "I have a project due in two weeks! Where the hell is your idiot friend?"

"He's withdrawing because of you," Gwaine said sternly never wanting so badly to hit a woman. _What a fucking witch!_

Morgana's dark eyebrows furrowed against her beautiful ivory face as utter confusion consumed her, "Percival's withdrawing from class?"

"Percival's withdrawing from school," Gwaine snapped.

She gasped with a hand over her mouth, "But why?"

"He overheard the things you were saying and he doesn't want to hold anyone back," Gwaine snarled, "He's not an idiot. He has dyslexia. His letters get switched around a bit. But if the question is read aloud to him he gets its correct more often than most people. Your… " Gwaine took a deep breath to keep from calling Dean Pendragon every horrible obscenity he could think of. He slowly regained his composure. "Your father promised that Percival would get a tutor to accompany him to every class if he agreed to play football for Eastern New Mexico University. When Percival got here Uther's story changed; Dean Pendragon recanted and said that a personal tutor was not in the budget."

Morgana felt like an ass. Her impatience and misjudgments were costing a young man his education, his future. She bolted down to registration at once to stop Percival from making the biggest mistake of his life. Even if she had to help him herself she was not going to allow him to drop out of school because of a broken promise made by her father.

xXx

_Months Later…_

With Percival's dorm room packed with rowdy ball players and Morgana's sorority house packed with a gaggle of noisy girls, the two of them studied at his parent's house during the day when the Millers were out to pasture. At first Morgana found the serenity of the quaint country home to be perfect for learning but now she found it too private. Being alone with him at times made it difficult for her to concentrate and it did not help that his folks were out of town this week.

He had a genuine goodness that surpassed his striking looks. She found herself stealing glances as they studied on the couch in his bedroom. His light blonde hair was still darkened and messy from when they ran in from the storm. But this took nothing away from him; in fact it made him look even sexier.

They were watching a documentary on the history channel about the impact of microorganisms on history. She gazed fondly at Percival as he feverishly jotted misspelled notes. He looked so cute with his face scrunched in a determined expression as he diligently wrote to the best of his ability. She'd been wrong about this ball player. He was neither lazy, nor stupid, just dyslexic.

The final credits began to roll and Morgana started packing up her things, "Thanks for allowing me to watch the program here. The storm knocked out our cable." A lie, she needed an excuse to come over.

"No problem," He assured her as they rose from the couch. "I think that was unfortunate." A lie, he yearned to spend time with her. He just didn't know how to approach the subject.

Admittedly, they didn't like each other much at first but when they were forced to get to know one another this lead to deeper feelings. They stood less than twelve inches apart as he gazed down into the refreshing mint green of her eyes. He wanted to ask her to homecoming but knew hell would freeze over before Queen Morgana arrived on the arm of a freshman.

She nervously swept a loose tendril of raven hair behind her ear, "I better get going."

He sighed with disappointment and offered to walk her out if only to spend those few extra seconds with her. But the television screen went solid blue. An eardrum piercing beep sounded from the speakers.

"This is your emergency broadcast system," A computerized voice echoed from the tube.

"Damn it," Morgana huffed as the tornado warning ran across the bottom of the screen. "It'll be 4:00am before the storm clears. I have a calculus exam tomorrow."

"You can crash here," Percival offered with the hospitality of a southern gentleman.

She knew that was the last thing she should do if she wanted to preserve her virginity, "Thanks but I'll take my chances."

His feelings were crushed as she grabbed her coat and prepared to brave the treacherous elements. He fumed. Since the day they had met this woman had been insulting him: his intelligence, his age, and now she was insulting his integrity as a gentleman, questioning the very honor of the well raised country boy. Percival had, had enough, "Are you that arrogant?! Are you seriously going to risk your life because you don't trust me?!"

"It's me I don't trust!" She screamed yanking her arm from his grasp.

Until now he hadn't even noticed he had grabbed her arm, but some part of him reeled at the thought of her putting herself in danger. His mouth gaped in response to her outburst. _She couldn't have said what I think she did._

"I care about you," she admitted with tears in her eyes, a bold confession for a woman who was so guarded.

Without a command from his brain his arms had encircled her soft warm body, the sweet and pleasant scent of jasmine over taking his senses. She looked so beautiful and smelled so wonderful that he spoke silently to his dick. _Please do not get hard right now._

Looking deeply into her eyes for a moment, he searches for a sign of rejection, and then leans forward and kisses her softly; a chaste press of his lips to hers, with an answering push of hers to his…

xXx

They find themselves cuddling in Percival's bedroom watching the storm. Morgana is resting her head on his chest and his powerful arms are around her waist. He is really warm and she melts like butter against his rock solid physique.

He kisses the top of her head and whispers. "Please accompany me to homecoming as my date."

"Of course," She speaks against his chest, her mouth curving in an ecstatic goofy smile that she is glad he can't see from this angle.

He sits up a little and kisses her temple and then her cheek. When she allows this he rolls the dice and places his soft wet lips upon her neck. He suckles the sensitive flesh gently, hoping, praying that he is doing this right.

"Stop." She says with laughter in her tone. "You're gonna give me a hickey." But she makes no attempt to push him away. She soon regrets her words as Percival obeys the command she had hoped he would ignore.

He moves his lips to hers, and she is pleased once more as they are swept into a tender and passionate kiss. He is shy, standoffish, so she introduces her tongue first and he groans in the back of his throat, a knot rising in his pants at the unfamiliar sensation. When they come up for air she smiles softly looking at him lovingly. She rests her forehead on his and her dainty hands on each side of his face, gently caressing his strong jaw with her thumbs. She kisses him again and this time it is he who gently explores her mouth with his tongue, his hands rubbing up and down her thinly veiled back. Morgana feels a pleasurable tingle between her legs as he continues to rub her back, his large but gentle hands making their way down to her shapely thighs.

Percival can feel himself getting harder as he and Morgana continue their kissing and caressing. But he doesn't want to pressure her into something she doesn't want to do.

"I'm sorry," He says at last breaking their steamy mind numbing kiss. "I said you could trust me and I'm not behaving as if you should."

"And I told you that I was the one who should not be trusted."

To his surprise, Morgana's hands find their way under his football jersey, gently stroking his chest and he kisses her long and deep. Though slightly hesitant, she starts tugging Percival's shirt up and he breaks the kiss so he can pull it the rest of the way over his head. Their lips meet again and Morgana places her hands on Percival's broad shoulders guiding him ever gently as she lays back on the soft mattress. He moves up her body in a slow and relaxed manner as this raven haired beauty lies beneath him and their lips lock once more.

"Percival," she says against his lips.

"Mm hm?" he asks against her lips.

"I want to." she confesses.

He pulls away, and looks her dead in the eye. "Are you _sure_?" he asks, his face serious and concerned.

She nods, "Only if you want to." She leans up to kiss him. "I know it's your first time too."

He's a little embarrassed that she's figured this out about him. But rather than deny it like the typical man, Percival simply kisses her back. "Yeah, I want to." and he leans down to kiss her again, pulling Morgana's shirt up and taking it off, throwing it onto his floor. Then he moves to her jeans as Morgana works on his belt. Soon, they are both in only their underwear, rubbing and touching and kissing each other's bodies. They pull away momentarily resting their foreheads together while they try to catch their breath.

"Just so we're clear," Percival's says between each breath. "My folks homeschooled me so I wouldn't fall behind because of my dyslexia. I never got to be around girls, never even kissed one until tonight. I have _no _idea what I'm doing."

"Didn't expect you to." she says, smiling up at him.

"Lets try to do this slowly." he whispers and Morgana shivers with pleasure at the sensation of his warm breath on her face.

"Okay," she breathes biting her lip nervously.

Percival slowly, and hesitantly, reaches behind Morgana's back to unclip her bra, gazing in her eyes for permission. She nods and he unhooks the lacy garment. He pulls it off of her and lays it on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

On natural instinct, Morgana covers her breasts with her arms.

Percival sweetly insists. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I _want _to. I'm just nervous."

Percival tries to relax her by rubbing her arms and kissing her throat. Morgana smiles and slowly lowers her arms, revealing her breasts to Percival for the first time. They are more magnificent than any pair he has ever seen in a magazine or online. He gently cups one of her supple mounds in his hand, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from her. He kisses the bony gap between her tender perky breasts and rests his ear upon her skin to make sure she's real, that this could actually be happening to him. He can hear her heart beat as he rests his head on her chest.

_I love you._ He whispers in his mind but is too afraid of what she will think if he voices the words.

_I love you._ She says silently for the very same reason.

Percival's mouth closes around Morgana's breast and he begins to suckle the sensitive flesh as best he can; hoping he is giving her pleasure. She moans wantonly and smiles down at him.

"Does this feel good?" he asks.

"Yeah," she breathes.

Suddenly, she feels a great deal of energy build up; energy demanding to be released and she has to stop it. She places a hand upon his strong shoulder, and Percival removes his tongue from the rosy tip of her creamy white breast.

"You okay?" he asks.

She nods, "Yeah, I'm doing good."

He places his lips upon hers again and they kiss and touch for a while. Percival makes his way down to Morgana's hips. He looks up at her, and she nods. Percival's fingers hook in the waistband of her small black panties and he slowly pulls them off as if leaving time for her to change her mind. He licks his lips at the delicious sight of her spreading her legs for him. He gently leans forward and the back of his hand brushes against her womanhood. She gasps just slightly and Percival's hand shoots back.

"Did I hurt you?" he worries.

"No." she replies. "It actually felt really good."

"Keep going?" he asks.

"Yeah," She replies.

He brushes the back of his hand against her womanhood again and she lets out a sensual moan. He can feel her getting really wet against his hand, causing his erection to grow even harder. He gently runs his index finger on the inside of her wet folds. He kisses the inside of her thigh.

"Good?" he asks.

"Mm hm." she replies.

Then slowly, Percival enters a finger inside of her and she gasps with delight.

"That's good." she whispers right away so that he will not worry.

He continues to slide his finger in and out of her and soon inserts a second finger. He feels her juices running down his fingers. He removes his hand and examines it out of curiosity, and for the same reason he licks the shiny fluid from his fingers; it tastes salty and sweet and he likes it. But now he is concerned that he has freaked her out, as he sees the gaping mouth, wide-eyed, stare she's giving him.

He apologizes at once and she assures him that she thought it was hot. With her consent he leans his face closer extending his tongue to take a long swipe up her center. She releases a gasp and Percival looks up at her, again, worried he has hurt her.

"I liked that." she tells him; so he returns to her, gingerly licking and suckling upon her sensitive clit as Morgana places her hands on the back of his head, spurring him on by gently pushing his face against her body. He continues lapping and kissing and sucking between her thighs, both of them feeling absolute pleasure until he ceases at her request.

"You ready?" he asks with his lips still a little glossy.

She nods.

"Hold on." He wipes his mouth and reaches inside of his draw. Morgana can hear a box rip open and her heart pounds at the revelation that this was actually happening. He pulls out a square of gold aluminum; a condom with big bold letters that spell Magnum.

She is a little alarmed at the size of this condom but hides her fears well, "How long have you had that?" she asks.

"Um, a few months. Now that I'm in college I figured I should purchase some in case of emergencies."

"Smart boy." she smiles at him.

He finally takes off his boxer shorts and tosses them somewhere unimportant. He gets on his knees between her legs and Morgana finally gains the courage to look at the part of him that will soon be a part of her. She isn't really sure what would be a small dick or a big one, but she figures his is above normal size.

Percival opens the condom square and takes out the latex film.

He is about to put it on when Morgana speaks with hesitance in her voice, "Can... can I put it on?"

He looks over at her, not surprised at her boldness, and a little turned on by it. "Uh, sure, if you want." He smiles and bites his lip.

She sits up and he hands it to her. But first she has to know what he feels like without this barrier between them. She gently brushes her palm against his member and he lets out a long moan. Her hand flinches back.

"No, it felt good." he presses his lips on hers. "Don't worry. You won't hurt me."

She brings her hand forward again, her fingers curling around his thick shaft, her delicate hand running up and down his length, soliciting another lustful moan from Percival. With a needy plea from him she withdraws her hand. She remembers what she was taught in her health class. She pinches the tip of the condom and brings her hand forward, then slips it onto him. With condom on, Morgana lies down and Percival lowers himself upon her, kissing her neck and ear to distract her from the momentary pain she might feel. Gently, he rocks his hips and enters her as slowly as he possibly can. She grips his shoulder embedding her nails in his skin which he takes as a sign to stop. He can feel her very breath cease beneath him. She slowly regains her composure breathing through the pain, and he enters her the rest of the way. Once fully sheathed he dares to look upon her and he's happy to see a smile on Morgana's face.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Mm hm."

He slowly thrusts in and out of her, hoping he is giving her as little pain as possible. She felt incredible to him and he fought the urge to get carried away.

Morgana leans up to kiss him. "Can you go a little faster?"

"You sure?"

She nods and he goes a little faster. Morgana smiles again at the sensation of them joined together. It didn't hurt as badly as she thought it would and now all she felt was desire, passion, wanton need. She hoped he was feeling the same way. Her worries were laid to rest as his eyes closed in ecstasy, a glare of determination on his face as his strokes grew longer and faster. She rubbed the sweat laden skin of his eagerly working back. Percival could feel his orgasm coming on so he cradled Morgana against his heart. His strong torso firm and stationary as he embraced her; while his hips continued to work them both into a state of mind-blowing pleasure. Soon he gasps, his warm moist breath pleasantly steaming the side of her face, as he feels his semen get caught by the condom. He becomes nervous, scared he has let her down. Morgana is just a couple years older and Gwaine once told him that older girls have expectations. He notices Morgana's sore and swollen womanhood throbbing around his satisfied shaft and he breathes a sigh of pleasure and relief. He figures this means he has pleased her but he isn't going to ruin the moment by asking. Morgana drifts down from the high of her orgasm pleased that Percival did not embarrass her by asking about it.

He slowly and gently begins to pull out of her, placing a series of loving pecks on her quivering lips as he does this. He rolls onto his back and she gingerly removes the condom from his sensitive shaft. She gazes curiously and innocently at the cloudy mess he has left in the latex barrier. She discards it in the waste basket and they use an old hoodie of his to wipe themselves off. He holds her close, his strong chest a little damp with perspiration. Morgana rests her head on his chest; listening to his heartbeat, which is strong and rhythmic, like the hooves of a galloping horse. She prays he will not change toward her or judge her for what she's done, for what she's allowed him to do. Her friends had warned her of such things happening.

Her worst nightmare is confirmed as she hears the hum of his deep voice, "I'll never look at you the same again."

Her heart sinks. She feels like a slut, "Why not?"

"Because before this happened I liked you. But now I've fallen in love with you."

She smiles at last wiping away the tears she just realized she had shed. She lies quietly in his embrace taking it all in. So much has changed. "Well that was nice." She finally says.

Percival drops a lingering peck into her tousled black locks and kisses her forehead, "Same here. I lasted longer than I thought I would." he chuckles.

"By the way, I love you too." she whispers and they seal her heart's confession with a loving kiss…

**If this chapter brought back memories for you, or gave you a laugh, or you simply find Percival as smoking hot as I do please feel free to review :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	3. The Once & Future Fling

**Description: Gwen and Arthur have hate sex while trapped at Carlsbad Caverns. ****As I said, this is HATE sex. He does not like her in this fic and she does not like him. He is not about to woo her on a bed of silken rose petals with soft music playing in the background. If hate sex bothers you then please do not read. **

The Once & Future Fling

The bowels of this previously undiscovered compartment deep down in the earth was freezing compared to the 104 degree weather on the surface. Being a born and bred southwestern girl Gwen hated the cold but refused to borrow a hoodie from Arthur. It was his fault they were in this mess. Now she was trapped with nothing but the persistent dripping of mineral rich water and Arthur's annoying ass voice; she didn't know which would drive her to crazy town sooner.

Gwen shook her head._This was supposed to be easy extra credit, the professor said. We were to meet with his grad students and assist them with a study of the cave, the instructor said. But when Arthur and I arrived we didn't see the others. I told Arthur we should just wait for them but mister important wanted to find them right away and get the research over with. He had things to do. He took off exploring and wouldn't listen. What do I know? I've only lived her all my goddamn life!_

Gwen grimaced and scowled at the stupid grin on his face knowing it was a precursor to an obnoxious and or rude comment.

"Well freshman it looks like we are going to be here for a while. So we may as well get… _comfortable.__"_

_SMACK! _

_Oh no he __didn't! _Gwen put her whole back into that slap as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Undaunted, with a large pink hand print on his cheek, Arthur's fingertips began creeping up her thigh. She socked him in the stomach.

As he groaned in pain next to her she wished that she had thought about it… and punched him harder. "Get your filthy self away from me!"

"I'm just trying to keep you warm!" Arthur grunted, clutching his abdomen right where Gwen had struck her target.

"I don't care if I freeze, just stay away from me!" Gwen shrieked, raising her voice which echoed and resounded throughout the cave.

She laid down on the cold hard floor of the cavern, folded her arms, and turned away from him, rolling on her side, trying to make it look as though she was asleep, even though her eyes refused to shut.

Gwen's arms slid around her body, her cold chill bump covered body, and she suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes. As terrible as this week had been, it was nothing compared to _this__._ Now not only did she have to endure the demeaning task of groveling and begging the financial aid office for funding, but she was stuck in a cave with a perverted ass-wipe who had gotten her into this mess in the first place! Not that she was looking at him. The cave was so dark she could barely see him anyway and now she'd turned her back on him. She wanted to forget that he was even there.

"You know…"

…which was difficult when he kept insisting on talking to her.

"If we were… _intimate…_that would make it easier to keep warm."

He had the good sense to not touch her or even scoot near her this time, but Gwen could tell by the tone of his voice that he still had that bedroom look in his eyes.

"Ugh!" she spat out in revulsion, not giving him the satisfaction of turning around to look at him. Who did this jerk think he was, anyway? "In your dreams, asshole!"

"I am just saying," she heard him say amiably. She imagined that he shrugged with those words. "It would also keep us alive."

"It might be in the fifties. We are not literally going to freeze to death!"

"Okay but we can still be comfortable. It would be beneficial. To both of us. Seeing as you only do things if _you _get some sort of gain from it."

OMG! did this guy know how to push her buttons.

"Who the hell do you think you are!_"_she snapped, forgetting her self control and turning around to glare at him; and he did indeed sport lidded eyes and a lazy smile, "To tell me what I do and don't do? Here's a newsflash. You don't even _KNOW _me!"

Arthur snorted, giving her an incredulous look. "I know you very well. They say a person's true character is revealed during times of panic, and this has certainly been a time of panic. And I know you only do things for yourself. You would not agree to one simple trip unless I made damn certain you would get credit too and I covered all the costs of travel. You probably would not even _save my life _unless you got a rather large monetary benefit from it." His incredulous look had morphed into one of contempt. "Can one really be as heartless as you?"

"I am not heartless," Gwen hissed in fury. "I am far from heartless. And if you knew what I've been through today even _before _you came into the picture you'd know that I have plenty of reasons to…"

"To leave me, a northerner, to travel the desert alone!"

"Whether it might have been death by dehydration or rattlesnake venom you would have _deserved _it!"

"Like I said. Heartless." He suddenly gave her a half-smirk, his bedroom eyes slowly returning. "And it is obvious you've had a bad day. You are far too tightly wound. And sex does wonders for stress. Trust me."

He just wouldn't give up, would he?

"I'm warning you, if you don't drop this subject I'm gonna…"

"You are too tightly wound. And there is only one cure for that." His smirk was now full-fledged. "You need to get laid… and by someone who knows how." He waggled his eyebrows.

"I am going to kill you!"

This didn't deter him. "Be careful what you wish for. You say you want to kill me. Well Cajun girl you should already know what they call an orgasm in French? _La petite mort._ 'The little death'."

"You!"

"And in this case, coming from you, it would be a _big _death."

"How on earth can you think about… about that at a time like this, you absolute pervert?"

"Because I am stressed and angry too!" Arthur shouted angrily. "You are not the only one here who is trapped you know! You are not the only one who has had a bad day! I am from Michigan and I've been dragged to the hottest place on earth! The weather sucks in the southwest! I can't order a single food item without them poisoning it with peppers! And I haven't had sex in over a fucking year!"

Gwen flung her arm at Arthur, throwing nothing at him, forgetting that she had nothing in her hand. "Well I haven't had sex in nineteen years and I've turned out just fine, so don't you dare use that as an excuse!"

"You have not turned out just fine…" Arthur suddenly stared at her. "Virgin," he said.

Gwen stared back. Did she detect a bit of an accusatory ring to that word?

"Virgin," he repeated, and this time there was no denying it. It was an accusation.

"Of course!" she snapped in retaliation. "Like many good unmarried people are! Although I'm sure you know nothing about that!"

"Virgin," he accused for a third time, smiling unpleasantly at her. "How can you live with yourself?"

"I've never heard anyone use that word as an insult before! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"And that is all the more reason for us to do it," Arthur continued, ignoring her comment. "Think about it. What better circumstance to lose your virginity than now?"

Gwen flung nothing at Arthur again. Damn, she really needed to find a rock… or a boulder… or a stick of dynamite, or something. "Just because nobody's here to find out doesn't mean it's okay for…"

"No one ever has to know," Arthur interrupted, "You'll get baptized on Sunday as planned and become a virgin all over again?"

Gwen stopped. He had a point… _OH GOD NO! STOP LISTENING TO THIS JERK! _"That doesn't make a difference!"

"Oh, right. Completely logical thinking is lost on you. Here. Let me appeal to your selfish nature."

Never mind that she had nothing to throw. Gwen slapped Arthur in the face.

He flinched but didn't appease her with any cry of pain. "You are mad. Very mad. And you must release all your pent-up anger and frustration somehow. And slapping me, yes, is probably somewhat effective. But there is nothing more effective in releasing pent-up energy than an orgasm. Trust me. You will enjoy it." He gave her a funny look. "Uh, well, at least I think you will enjoy it. Most normal people do, but you are clearly far from normal."

Gwen gritted her teeth, forcing down the urge to slap him again. "Unlike some people," she said, slowly and markedly, attempting to work her rage at him, at the day, at everything that had happened, "I have a brain and I think with my brain, not with my…"

"If you had a penis you would think with your penis," Arthur said bluntly.

So much for keeping her anger in check, "You sleazy little!"

"And although I do not have a vagina, I am sure it is equally possible and rewarding to think with a vagina, too. This is not working," he observed, seeing Gwen's almond skin slowly begin to turn an alarming shade of red in the scattered light that filtered in. "Okay. Let me try again."

"I swear if you don't shut your mouth I'm gonna…"

"You say you are not heartless. This is a complete lie; you are the most heartless person I have ever met, but I'll humor you and appeal to your emotions."

Gwen lunged for him. Arthur grabbed her before she could hit him again and held her until she stopped fighting.

"Virgin. Virgin!" he spat out contemptuously. In reality he had dozens of far more stinging insults for her, but that was the one he was going to focus on for the time being. "You are a virgin and someday when you get married, poor deluded soul who will actually want to marry a cranky cruel woman like you, your dear husband who loves you so much will have to hurt you if you are still a virgin! Do you want to put him through that? Why not be prepared for him!"

"Bastard, you idiotic, selfish, perverted… For your information, I'm never getting married!"

"Funny thing about that!" Arthur shouted back at her. "You see after being caught in the middle of my parents' divorce I said the same shit. And you know what I ended up getting married!"

"No doubt to some poor hapless soul who tired quickly of taking care of you! But I take care of myself and I don't need to get married and I won't get married EVER!"

"The more you say it, the sooner your wedding day will come," Arthur smirked at her. "And when it comes, don't you want to please your husband? But how will you know how to please him if you have never had sex before? You will be a complete failure as a wife!"

_Failure?! __Gwen_ never handled that word well, even under top conditions. And right now was not a top condition. "You piece of shit,don't you _ever_ call me a failure, after all I've done, after all you… you haven't done, you!"

She flung herself at him again but Arthur was ready for her. He flung his arm out and she face planted against his palm, hard… hard enough to knock her backwards and to the ground.

She exhaled, and it came out as a sob.

Arthur stared at his hand. _Shit what the hell am I doing?_

He had never struck a woman before. He had never struck _anyone _outside of the boxing ring. Except she wasn't a woman, she was an obnoxious pain in the ass who had struck him earlier and he was angry at her and dammit she deserved it. But still…

Granted, he had never found himself in such a trying circumstance like this before, let alone with such a trying person like this freshman. But still that was no excuse.

"Forget it," he muttered, turning around and sitting on the ground. "Forget it. This isn't worth it. You're not worth it. …You're not worth anything."

Gwen felt her blood boil. She had only known Arthur since the semester began and already he had made her angry more times than anyone else had in her life. That took some talent.

"Do you want to know whyI'm so angry?" she asked tersely. "Do you want to know why I'm having such a bad week? Do you want to know every tiny little detail?"

Arthur twisted his head around. "Yes freshman," he said, hoping he didn't sound as sarcastic to her as he did to himself, because he actually did mean it. "Yes. Let your anger out. By screaming, by kicking something, by kicking and hitting me again, I don't care, just let it all out! Maybe then you might actually be pleasant to be around!"

"I'm worth plenty," she snapped back at him. "I'm worth far more than you_. _Because I actually worked for the things I have. I ain't got much but what I have is mine because of my work, I bet you can't even understand that concept, you spoiled little…" She stood up, towering over him, and pointed a finger at him. "Because unlike you I never had anything just handed to me. I have helped my mom and dad with the ranch since the time I could walk. You want numbers architect? Well here's some numbers for you: 3% of this country supplies 85% of the food and that position demands respect! Yet you turn up your nose at me and go home and sit over your nice juicy sirloin and potatoes without thinking about the fact that people like me, my brother, and Percival Miller made that meal possible!"

Arthur stood up too. He didn't like the freshman leering over him like that. And he was angry too. And maybe if he talked about it like she did he could get it out as well. "And what you do is admirable. But it does not compare to my tale. The only woman I have ever loved, ever lain with left me!"

"You got what you deserved,bastard!" Gwen interrupted, pointing a finger at his chest, now completely in his face, glaring at him. "You don't even have a clue of what the real world is like, what it's like to work and work and work so much that every day you feel like dying, only to have some snobby prick put you down for needing financial aid, call you a leach on his daddy's tax dollars!"

"Is that it?!" Arthur yelled back at her, their faces inches from each other as they glared at each other contemptuously. He grabbed her shoulders in angry retaliation and realized, in an instant, that he was going to get sex tonight after all, but sex that might possibly literally kill him, due to how absolutely enraged the freshman was. "You have other options! You'll struggle for now, even hear nasty comments from bastards like me, but you will be fine in the long run while I will still be wifeless! She ripped my heart out!"

"Boo hoo hoo! I can't think of anything worse… oh wait, yes I can, having your life's dream snatched away from you with a simple scholarship denial letter! My circumstances would have been bad enough even if I hadn't been trapped in a cave! "

Gwen suddenly and forcefully slammed Arthur into the wet wall of the cave. Arthur let out a gasp and they screamed in unison. "And then I met you!"

She was viciously twitching with rage, her body rammed against his, her hands on his upper arms gripping him as tight as she could as their mouths collided kissing feverishly. With her pelvis pressed tight against his, she was about to _kill_ him, and he felt like _killing_ her too, but he also now officially had an erection that was nudging against her.

He pushed her away and growled, "And as bad, as completely horrible, as my year has been I didn't think anything could make it worse, but you did! Now not only have I lost everything that's important to me, I'm trapped in a fucking cavern! Of all the Podunk ranchers I could have met, I had to meet you!" Arthur spat out at her.

"And of all the upper middleclass conservative douchbags in the world, I had to meet you!" Gwen gripped Arthur's arms even harder this time and he gripped her shoulders like a vice.

"Got to hell,"Arthur growled.

"You'll have to _kill _me first, remember"

Arthur's mouth sank to her neck preferring her moans over her stinging insults. She hooked her thumbs in the waist band of his underwear and basketball shorts ripping them both down at the same time. He repeated the action on her, hefted her up, and without warning care or concern he dove in.

Gwen shrieked in pain, in surprise, in anger, in _lust, _as she held onto his shoulders for dear life. He slammed her back against the wall, pressing his body fully against her and on her, the cool moisture of the cave seeping into her t- shirt. The sting of pleasure she felt as he tore through her, in addition to the painful sounding moans Arthur was making, was enough to make Gwen rock her hips and lock her legs around him projecting herself up and down on his pole, She wanted, needed to feel that searing sensation of him moving inside her again, and again, and again.

He pulled her up and disconnected from her for long enough to place her on her feet and reenter her from behind, smashing her shirted front against the cold cavern wall. She was practically slamming back into him. This sex was different from what Arthur had ever experienced. During moments when his wife was forceful with him he laid back and took it, letting the sensation of such delirious pleasure ripple throughout his body. With little to no effort on his part he allowed her to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. But not this time. This time he was throwing himself against Gwen with just as much force and just as much intensity as she was hurling at him, continuing to bite her shoulder and groan as he gave just what he was getting. That vulgar word that had always seemed so harsh when describing an act of love sprung to Gwen's mind and she pushed it from her thoughts as fiery pleasure flowed through her. But there was no other word for what he was doing to her right now: he was fucking her. And she was fucking him. And she was fucking him very, very well. Normally Arthur went slow. But now he was matching Gwen's pace. This wasn't about pleasure, this was about letting his anger out. Letting his anger out at her_. _And releasing his pent-up…

He brought his mouth away from her shoulder as he gasped breathlessly, yanking out of her and ejaculating on the cavern floor. Whoa. That was fast. Normally he lasted much longer but then again he'd never done it this way: fucked on pure hate alone. He gasped again as her smooth bare ass grazed his sensitive tip. His member twitched in conclusion. There it was. He wanted to lay back and relax and soak in the afterglow but Gwen shoved him to the ground and mounted him. She was still going whether he wanted to or not. This freshman was going to kill him.

"S-stop!" he gasped as she continued to grind him furiously. This didn't endear him to her one bit.

"How… dare… you… finish… before me?" Gwen demanded, gripping Arthur's shoulders so tightly his arms were turning white, still ramming him into the hard floor of the cave with her eagerly working pelvis.

In desperation, Arthur brought his mouth back to hers and started sucking and flicking her tongue with his own He reached between the two of them to tickle the delicate button just above where they joined. He had to get her to climax. Now. Having been married he knew precisely how to give a woman the absolute fullest pleasure. However, he really had no desire to give this cranky biotch any pleasure whatsoever. But that wasn't the issue. Bringing this girl to orgasm went far beyond erotic fun. This time, his life was quite literally on the line. And although his entire lower abdomen was still numb and shaking from his climax, he managed to return at least a bit of her ferocity, hoping that would make her passion wash over her sooner.

He was relieved when she finally let out a yelp, neither delicate nor passionate, sounding more as if she had been suddenly pained, but he knew what it meant as her hips finally stopped moving and her grip on his arms finally loosing.

Arthur, taking advantage of the opportunity, shoved her aside as quickly as he could. _F__inally free._

He pulled his shorts up from his ankles still breathing heavily, relieved that he was still alive and still delirious from his orgasm. This woman was a monster_._

"Wow," he murmured breathlessly, not looking at her. "I need a nap."

Gwen also turned her head away from him as she struggled to get her breathing back to normal. A strange, tingling calm was settling through her body, having been set off by the sudden release of everything the sex had finally brought to her. But along with the refreshing calm was also a wave of nausea and shame. _Slut. _She just had sex. She just had sex and she was unmarried. She just had sex with someone who she could hardly stand. _Slut!_

"I shouldn't have done that," she moaned softly, pressing her palms against her face. Realizing that she had spoken aloud, she turned her head back to Arthur, who was looking at her again but unable to give her much of an expression past his overwhelmed gaping. "You get away from me."

"Wow… I thought an orgasm would make you more agreeable." His next breath came out with a laugh. "It certainly did wonders for my well-being, at any rate."

"Go away." Gwen turned away from him and stared at the ground.

"This is an improvement for you. Excellent."

"I'm not like this," Gwen muttered. "I don't do this. I'm not a slut."

"Of course you're not a slut." There was no hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Gwen turned and looked at him in surprise. _"__I _am a slut. My wife has barely been dead a year. I am scum."

_Oh my god I thought he was divorced. _Gwen didn't know what to say as tears welled up in his eyes so she said nothing at all.

He assured her, "You are as far from being a slut as anyone could ever be."

"How can you say that? We just had a fling. And you're taking my friend to homecoming."

"She doesn't have to know. In fact, how would you propose even telling her? That we had hate sex in a cave. I highly doubt…"

"That don't change the fact that we did it!"

"I give up," Arthur huffed, putting up his walls like always. "You are making this far too complicated."

Gwen sighed in frustration, wrapping her arms around her body. She gave up too. Trying to talk to Arthur was akin to banging one's head against a brick wall. Nothing came of it except a pounding headache.

She heard him chuckle softly. "Just promise me that you will invite me to your wedding."

Gwen snapped her head around and glared at him. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm never getting married? I'm never getting married! Never, never, NEVER!"

"Whoa," Arthur said, his eyes growing wide. "Slow down. If you keep this up you will be married within a month."

Gwen took a deep breath to calm herself, and then said to Arthur, in a slightly more controlled tone. "Alright. Fine. If I do get married, let me assure you that you will not be receiving an invitation. I wouldn't invite you to my wedding if you were the last man on earth!"

There was silence for a few moments before Arthur started to chuckle, softly at first but then growing in volume. "Of course you would not invite me in that circumstance, because if you were getting married, and I was the last man on earth…"

"Stop it right now!" Gwen shrieked, knowing where he was going with this before he even got there.

He laughed even harder, continuing despite her ultimatum. "Then by process of elimination, you would be marrying me!"

"Shut up!"

"When you get married," Arthur continued, still ignoring her commands, "you will surely invite me."

"Fine," Gwen hissed. "If on the slim chance I ever do get married, I will invite you. And what's more, I will give you complete permission to laugh in my face. Because I'll deserve it," she muttered harshly.

"That will be satisfying," He smiled smugly and Gwen turned away from him again.

"I'm sorry for striking you," she suddenly heard Arthur say.

She turned back to him again and stared at him in shock.

"I mean, you deserved it and all, but I still should not have done that. I don't normally do that. I… I am not like that," he finished lamely.

She continued to stare at him.

"I deserved the slap you gave me, too,"Arthur added with a nervous smile, "So I guess we are even now."

"I guess," She finally said dismissively.

They continued to stare at each other for a few minutes before Gwen turned back around and lay on her side, closing her eyes. It was a half-baked apology at best, but she hadn't been expecting any apology from him at all.

Arthur was also not expecting an apology from Gwen, and thus wasn't surprised when she said nothing more. He also turned his back to her and curled up on the gound closing his eyes. She was fierce, this freshman… Gwen was fierce. It was an annoying ferocity that had nearly killed him, and he already knew that waiting to be rescued with her was going to drive him batty, but there was something… admirable about her passion. He had always had a weakness for passionate women. His late wife Sophia had aided her father in kidnapping Arthur and holding him for ransom. But Arthur convinced her to help him escape, to abandon her evil father and runaway with him. Yes his beloved Sophia had fight in her and so does Gwen. He had no doubt she would get married to some masochistic freak of nature and he did not envy the poor fool who would inevitably fall in love with her, but with her personality, it had to happen.

"You have a pretty name," he murmured. "Guinevere." He said her name with a little lilt, as if he was testing it out to see how it sounded.

It sounded odd coming from him, Gwen thought, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with calling her by name rather than university rank. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that either. "My friends call me Gwen."

"I'm not your friend," he reminded her sternly. _But if I was I would still prefer Guinevere…_

That was the extent of their conversation for the night.

xXx

_Not long later…_

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the church, and Gwen beamed from it, beamed even brighter at the enthusiastic applause from the crowd, applauding for love and joy on her wedding day_. _It was her wedding day, and she couldn't have been more elated. Life had always seemed like an endless array of possibilities to her, but now more than ever it seemed like an endless array of possibilities that could be matched and exceeded with her husband at her side.

She turned her face away from the crowd and back at him, unable to hide her joy and her love. He smiled back with the same love and tenderness before his eyes suddenly crinkled, his mouth twitched, and he started to laugh. Softly at first, but soon it was more forceful and deliberate.

"What is so funny?" Gwen demanded.

"Remember?" Arthur responded, still laughing. "You gave me permission to laugh in your face at your wedding. So… so I am laughing in your face at your wedding. Ha. Ha ha ha." He paused thoughtfully. "You said you would invite me, however, and I do not recall receiving an invitation."

Gwen felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly turned back to the crowd and smiled and waved again, although this time she looked far more embarrassed. "That night never happened," she murmured.

"Of course not," Arthur murmured back, also smiling and waving at the crowd. "Because if it had, I would be constantly apologizing to you for hurting you. Oh Guinevere I am so, so sorry for hurting you."

"Forget it. It never happened. And at least my 'loving husband won't have to hurt me. I'm prepared for him'." She gingerly cupped his cheek kissing his lips so sweetly, the pleasant scent of his cologne enveloping her along with his big strong arms.

As their friends and family erupted in applause once more, Arthur and Gwen took a small leap over a decorative broom and started down the aisle. The doors to the outside swung open. Arthur grinned at her braiding the fingers of their joined hands. She grinned back and together they took the first step toward their destiny…


	4. A Magical Night with Mordred

**Description: Mordred fantasizes about what he would do to the beautiful older woman who saved his life. **

A Magical Night

It had taken two long days travel to arrive and Mordred still wasn't certain he was doing the right thing. Gently pulling the reigns over Midnight's head, Mordred slowly lead him towards the beautiful stream. Midnight quietly drank of its sparkling waters as Mordred rubbed his faithful steed. Dipping his handkerchief, Mordred gingerly dabbed the back of his own neck. He took advantage of a much needed rest from his saddle and allowed himself a moment to just breathe. _Can I really do it? Am I capable of committing such a betrayal?_

The cool refreshing waters of the flowing stream felt as good as he had imagined. His eyes gazed upon the beauty of his surroundings as he moved to sit and rest for a while. His body still somewhat weary from his long arduous journey, he slumped down on a rock, and continued to dab the back of his neck and face, while admiring the tranquil beauty of this place. Fallen pillars and toppled statues of kings lay covered in a blanket of soft green moss. Floral vines grew up the bark of hundred year old trees.

It was the most lovely and dangerous place in all the five kingdoms. No one in their right mind would ever travel through the Valley of the Fallen Kings alone, but Mordred was not in his right mind. He was confused, conflicted, torn between his loyalties to a man he loved like a father and the beautiful woman who'd saved his life. Morgana Pendragon possessed eyes of emerald, skin of porcelain, and a heart of gold and Mordred cared for her above all others. Even if the rest of the world looked upon her and saw an evil witch, she would always remain the remarkable girl who risked her neck to harbor a druid boy who was sentenced to death. In his eyes she was the maiden who stood against Uther himself to return the Crystal of Neahtid to its people. Morgana was the queen of his heart, but her heart belonged to another; a man Mordred wasn't certain deserved it.

_Can I actually betray Alvarr, a man who was my keeper and protector for so long? And not only that, I would stand to betray all those of magic who will benefit from Alvarr and Morgana's powerful union._

Mordred ran a hand through his thick black curls and gripped them in anguish. _I agree with Alvarr's cause of stopping the persecution of our kind, but I do not agree with him using the Lady Morgana to accomplish this. Alvarr has asked Morgana to marry him and yet he still lies with his wench. I caught him with his lover two nights ago!_

The ground began to tremor as Mordred's fury rose like a tidal wave threatening to take out everything in its path. He breathed in and out slowly, once, twice, thrice and the pebbles stopped rattling at his riding boots. Still tired, he rose knowing that small quake might have given away his location. He took Midnight by the reigns, "It's time to go friend." Mordred placed his foot securely in the stirrup and flung himself onto the horse's back, slowly and cautiously leading him through the valley in order not to attract attention. But the young warrior's mind was no less troubled. Was this one woman worth destroying all he and Alvarr had accomplished, all they had yet to accomplish?

_A union between beings of magic is not like a normal marriage. We bind our spirits and our magic as well as our hearts for all of eternity. Because of this we are able to use our spouse's magic in their absence and they are equally capable of using ours. I respect Alvarr but at times it seems he cares more for the cause than Morgana. He knows how powerful she is and that they would be unstoppable after binding their powers; but does he love her? I'm not certain if he's marrying milady or her magic, either way she deserves to know the truth…_

Mordred whipped around at the sound of numerous boots colliding with the ground. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by bandits, cutthroats, and mercenaries. The pounding of Mordred's heart against his breastbone nearly drowned out the war cries of the determined warriors. Midnight was struck painfully with an arrow. The horse reared up on his hind legs neighing loudly. Mordred held fast. He was nearly thrown by the injured animal. Before Mordred could reach for his sword he felt the sharp stab of a poisoned dart, awful burning, followed by tingling and numbness. He snatched it from his side which didn't make a difference.

He grew sluggish, confused, the world began to spin, a blinding blur of forest and light. His legs tingled, weakened. He went plummeting from his horse. Fell hard on the cold wet earth, his vision hazy, his back pressed to the ground. He rose on unsteady feet, staggering as he groggily unsheathed his sword. He waived it sluggishly in defense of himself. His captors laughed at his counterproductive attempts to strike them down. It felt as if his sword weighed a ton. The weapon fell from his exhausted arm with a clang as metal collided with rock. And he hit the ground soon after. He lay paralyzed with nothing but the scent of moist soil and defeat. His only vision: the fuzzy silhouette of a barrel-chested brute; not at all the face he yearned to see right now. In this hopeless moment, likely his last, all he wanted was Morgana. If only to conjure the courage to confess at long last how much he truly loved her…

xXx

A far descent from her lofty palace quarters, Morgana's dilapidated hovel smelled like a pleasant mixture of dried roots, medicinal herbs, and magical spices. It was dark save for a few flickering candles and a tiny blaze in the hearth which made the cottage warm and cozy. Hours after the attack on Mordred, Morgana gingerly dabbed a cool cloth on his forehead and cheeks as his head rested upon her lap. _Why on earth would he travel all this way alone?_She pondered curling her fingertips around his soft raven curls as he slept fitfully. _The Valley of the Fallen Kings is full of murderers, thieves, and cutthroats. It's a good thing the majority of them work for me._The corners of her mouth curved up in a thoughtful smirk.

Morgana had seen the spot of blood on his side. She removed his soiled tunic for sake of washing it. She treated his puncture wound with an antidote made from medicinal roots and herbs. He didn't need stitches or bandaging. The dart left only a tiny hole that closed on its own, but the neurotoxin remained.

She had cared for this body before but this time she felt uneasy about it. He was all grown up and he looked good enough to eat even if she refused to admit this reality. _It just feels wrong to look at him in such a way. I'm marrying Alvarr and Mordred is like a little brother to me._

The skin just below his right collar bone still bore the same triangular marking with a swirl extending from each point. The druids called this sacred symbol a triscillian. And the permanent black ink would forever glow against the white canvas of Mordred's chest. But this was not the same bony bird like chest of the precious Druid child Morgana harbored years ago. This chest was thick with a solid wall of muscle, his shoulders broad and strong, and she could have easily used his abs to wash the bloodstain from his tunic.

_He's just a child._She told herself, covering up the hard stomach and chest that often poisoned her mind with wanton images. _I must be ten years his senior._She carefully replaced her lap with a pillow for his head to rest upon. She walked over to the window gazing over to the white tunic hanging on the line to dry. She could see from here that it was still wet. _Would you dry already! I need this boy to have on clothes._ She would have done a heating spell to rush the process but the last time she tried that with her own dress the soft heat waves emitting from her palms turned to flames. The gown was burned to cinders. Morgana would just have to obvert her eyes and wait for his shirt to dry. She walked over to her bubbling caldron and stirred the lumps of meat, potatoes, and carrots around. _It should be done in an hour._

"Morgana," Mordred called groggily as he awakened to find the nicest ass he'd ever seen leaning over a large pot.

"You shouldn't have come here all alone Mordred," Morgana chastised him without even turning around. "You're just a child."

He grimaced as he climbed out of bed. _I hate when you call me a child._

She set her serving spoon aside at last turning to look upon him as he made his way over to her. The way his muscles shifted beneath his skin was enough to make her shudder. She obverted her eyes and tossed him a dark blue tunic, "I bought this for Alvarr. Put it on. Yours is still drying."

An oblivious Mordred caught the shirt and set it aside, "I'll just wait for mine to dry, thank you."

"I said cover yourself," Her tone a little reprimanding as she added, "Now."

He was taken aback. _Does the sight of me half dressed make her nervous? Have I grown up in her eyes?_ "Why would you want me to wear a gift for your future husband?" Mordred grinned devilishly. "You didn't demand I cover myself the first time we met. You and Merlin treated the wound on my arm, and you never once demanded that I cover myself."

"Put on the shirt," She laughed at the stubborn young man refusing to acknowledge his point, refusing to tell him what he wanted to hear: that she was indeed attracted to him.

He was so close now their bodies nearly touched and he gingerly brushed her cheek with his knuckles closing his eyes to breathe in her scent and revel in the feel of her soft ivory skin.

She shivered. _Is he… flirting with me? No he can't be. He's just a teenage boy._She took a step back, turned her back to him and slowed her breathing."You're just a kid Mordred. What made you come all this way?"

He'd put it off for as long as he could, but there was no avoiding this ugly conversation. He began to regretfully inform Morgana that he saw Enmyria riding Alvarr as if he were wearing a saddle.

"Get out!" Morgana screamed with a slap so hard that it whipped his head sideways. "How have I wronged you that you would tell me lies mere days before my wedding?!" She planted her hands in his chest and shoved him toward the door, "Is it not enough that Alvarr has looked out for you since you were small?! Is it not enough that I risked my own neck to save your miserable life?! And… and…" She found herself at a loss for words. She was too furious to form a coherent sentence, "You… you ungrateful little bastard!"

"I speak the truth!" Mordred shouted. He closed his hands over hers allowing her palms to rest over his pounding heart. He gazed down into her minty green eyes and swore, "It pains me to tell you but I speak the truth. Alvarr is unfaithful."

"No… he said it was over with Enmyria. They ended things long ago," She pulled her hands away from his heart as tears pooled in her eyes. She pinched back the tears and fought to block out all of the subtle glances and hushed whispers she had seen between Alvarr and the woman with sandy brown curls. Morgana walked away and slumped down on her bed. _I thought I was merely being paranoid. I didn't want to seem jealous or possessive._

"I tell you the truth when I say that Alvarr is an unfaithful bastard," Mordred said solemnly as he sank on the floor before her. He rested his naked back against her shins, leaned his head back upon her knees. "He's my dearest friend. It breaks my heart to betray him, but I swear it's true."

She gazed down into the earnest face of the druid boy who'd grown into such a handsome man. Tears welled up in his icy blue eyes and he lowered his lids to dam the flow. Morgana gingerly wiped the drops that trickled out of the corners of his large beautiful eyes. And then he breathed three words that stole the breath from the witch's lungs, "I love you."

xXx

A little embarrassed about the three words he blurted out before he could lasso his tongue, Mordred donned the shirt Morgana gave him and went to check on Midnight. The arrow had barely grazed the horse, and Morgana had already treated what little injury there was. Mordred rubbed his smooth dark coat for a moment and fed him a juicy red apple before Morgana knocked on the window to signal that dinner was ready.

Morgana and Mordred sat at the table idly swirling their spoons around in their stew bowls. No one had spoken more than a one word sentence since Mordred's bold confession. The tension was almost palpable; you could have sliced it with a sword. Morgana at last gave up on eating and sat her spoon aside. Her stomach felt as if it had a brick in it and she would never feel right around him until she knew for certain.

She laughed awkwardly, "Mordred um… Earlier when you said you loved me. You meant as a friend and comrade correct?"

His pale blue eyes glanced up from his untouched dinner and he focused his gaze on her beautiful face, "I did not mean as a friend."

"As a big sister then," She questioned a little unnerved.

"No milady," He gave a small smile as his eyes fell to her supple cleavage, rising up the delicate lines of her beautiful neck, traveling further up to the soft wet lips he'd only dreamed of tasting and then finally his gaze met her eyes once more. _I love you in a way that makes me want to see you naked and run my tongue over every inch of your beautiful body. I love you in a way that makes me yearn to hold you every night and wake up next to you every morning._

She rose as she noticed his gaze lingering a bit too long and she could only hope she was misconceiving his body language. She stood with her back to him, one dainty hand resting on the table. Without turning to look at him she questioned sternly, "Then how Mordred? How do you love me?"

He murmured a spell. She gasped as she no longer felt the floor beneath her feet. She magically drifted backward through the air and floated down upon his waiting lap like a feather upon the grass.

"Mordred!" She moved to get up but was snared by a pair of strong arms.

He nuzzled her hair away from her shoulder with his face and whispered in her ear as if sharing his heart's most intimate secret, "I love you in that meet me at the altar sort of way, that please bear my children sort of way, that I'd travel into the darkest recesses of hell for you sort of way. What will it take to have you see me as a man?"

She sat frozen in his arms, captive to her own desires as she nestled against his strong body, the growing knot in his pants making her all the more senseless. She yearned to rub her ass against his hardness until he could stand it no more, until he tore off her undergarments and fucked her until he'd had his fill of her, until he spilled his seed and vowed to never love another woman. But she fought her primal urges even as his luscious lips gingerly grazed the back of her neck planting soft wet kisses at the bend of her shoulder. She found herself unable to breath. His teeth gently nibbling their way up the sensitive skin of her neck, he breathed into her ear, "One kiss…"

"This is crazy," Morgana freed herself of his arms and rose from his lap, trying to block from her mind the tantalizing sensation of his mouth upon her tingling flesh. She tried to forget how wonderful it felt to be wrapped in his strong embrace and how good her ass felt in his lap as his dick stiffened and rose beneath her. She shook the images from her mind, speaking more to herself than him, "You're just a child Mordred. I couldn't. I can't. You should leave. Alvarr is probably worried sick about you."

She saw a twinge of guilt in his eyes at the mention of Alvarr. Mordred solemnly admitted, "You're right I should leave, but I don't want to, and I don't believe that you want me to either." He rose and took her hands, "Can you honestly say you've never thought about us as I have? One kiss Morgana. If you feel nothing for me I swear I'll leave."

Morgana gazed breathlessly up at him knowing that she shouldn't kiss him, and also knowing that she would never get rid of him unless she did, "One kiss Mordred."

Her eyes fell shut as his mouth lowered to meet hers. Their lips made contact and it was like a million stars bursting forth as fire rose throughout their eager bodies. She needed to break this kiss, but found herself leaning into it further as he encircled her with his arms. His tongue slid into her mouth and a muffled moan escaped her as her fingers began to tangle themselves in his tunic pulling him into her, deepening the kiss as her own tongue began to curiously search out his mouth and flick and tease his tongue. They came up for air breathing heavily.

Her bosom heaving, she lied to him quickly, "I felt nothing."

"Me neither," He smiled and kissed her again hungrily, passionately. Their kisses were greedy, wrought with the pleasure of having a long awaited need fulfilled. He felt her hands on the naked skin of his stomach and the simple caress sent a shiver of desire up his spine. She rubbed the hard muscles beneath his tunic, her nimble fingers making their way to the laces of his pants. They broke their kiss almost breathless, stupid with a primal longing for each other.

"You should leave," She heaved with what little sense remained in her whirling mind.

"Yes milady," He honored her request though it pained his heart to do so. "I'm sorry… I had to know."

She nodded and spoke to him in a tone that was almost reprimanding, "We cannot be together Mordred. I know Alvarr will change for the better once I've married him. I'll always love you as a friend."

_I give her my heart and soul and she says a friend…_Mordred's mouth went dry at her words. He coughed in pain at that single syllable that was like a razor sharp dagger to his chest: _friend_. With those six letters Morgana cut out his heart, and squeezed the wind from his lungs. Tears filled his eyes but what more could he do? Alvarr was more charismatic than anyone Mordred had ever met to the point of being manipulative, and the renegade sorcerer had an iron grip on Morgana from the moment he kissed her cheek. Years ago she even betrayed King Uther to help Alvarr escape execution.

_She's in love with Alvarr and there's nothing I can do but wish her well,_"Goodbye milady. Please know that for your sake I do hope that Alvarr changes his ways, and I wish for nothing but your happiness."

"Goodbye Mordred," Her voice cracked beneath the weight of her emotions but what was she to do? Break off her engagement for a seventeen year old kid with a crush? _The love of teenagers is fleeting, fickle. He swore he was in love with Kara until she left him to run off with a band of Saxons. Mordred will be over his infatuation the moment he's had me, and on to pursue the next girl he's 'in love' with. I need maturity, stability, Alvarr._

Mordred bent over to don his riding boots. The footwear magically walked away from him. His back shot up straight. He whipped around. Morgana's face was shining with tears her hand was still stretched out from performing the spell. A grin warmed his face as the dark blue material of his tunic began to roll up his body and soon she had used her magic to fling it somewhere unimportant.

"Nice tricks but you will have to touch me at some point," He flirted.

"Oh I plan to," She assured him as they both swept through the air colliding in another mind numbing passionate kiss, levitating above the floor on sheer magic and love as his hands explored the soft curves of her body. They drifted down to the ground in each other's arms, speechless, breathless. She gathered her courage and lay down upon the bed, confused and disappointed that he didn't join her. She was entirely unaware of how many nights he'd lain awake in his tent, pleasing himself to vivid fantasies about the beautiful maiden who'd saved his life and captured his soul. Now she was finally in his clutches and he would not rush a thing.

She felt the firm grip of her bodice loosen, as Mordred whispered an incantation. With a snap of his fingers the laces began to undo themselves. He used his mind and inner energy to levitate her body up from the bed and peel off the black fabric of her dress. With another spell her thin shift was in a silky pile on the floor. He lowered her back down on the bed in nothing but a lacy pair of pantaloons and stockings that came just above her knees. Mordred bit his bottom lip to rid his face of the stupid grin, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His eyes flashed and the wine bottle at the end of the table uncorked itself and poured them both a glass. One flute floated into his hand and the other drifted over to Morgana.

As she lay topless with her raven tresses spilled out on the pillows she teased him, "Nice tricks but you will have to touch me at some point."

"Oh I plan to," He vowed and drained his wine glass.

She smiled and enjoyed the tangy sweet vine ripened flavor wondering just what was going through Mordred's mind as he devoured her with that hungry gaze. She soon received a breathtaking answer as he unlaced his riding pants just enough to pull out his steely manhood. He stroked his long thick staff gingerly almost lazily while eying the wanton witch as if she were a desert he wanted to savor until the last delicious bite. Her jaw dropped and she found herself unable to believe he would touch himself in such a way in her presence and yet she couldn't tear her eyes from him. There was something so erotic about him finding pleasure at the mere thought of having her, and before she realized it, her hands were exploring her own body, caressing and kneading her soft breasts, sliding her flat palms down her slender stomach, reaching beneath the lacy material of her pantaloons to massage the delicate folds between her legs. Her back arched from the bed and a quiet moan escaped her lips as she imagined her hands were his.

And just when her passion was to overflow in a fiery orgasm she felt his hand over hers. She stopped what she was doing. She hadn't even noticed that he'd joined her on the bed and that he'd taken off what was left of his coverings. She looked on with shocked expectancy as he pulled her hand to his mouth gently sucking the sensitive pads of the fingers she'd been using to please herself. As her bosom heaved he could see that she was eager, eager for everything, his touch, his lips, his everything, yet he wanted to prolong their pleasure. He took his time removing her panties placing soft wet kisses along the way; she shivered at the rough sensation of his hands sliding the thin material over her cute round bump of an ass, up her shapely thighs, over her knees, and finally off of her feet. He slowly and deliberately moved up her body lowering his strong naked body upon her trembling frame as her panties lay in a delicate roll at the foot of the bed. He started kissing her neck, playing with her breasts, opening his lips to draw the strawberry tip deep into his mouth. Morgana could feel his tongue swirling around her nipple, peaked with wanton desire. His palms and fingers roamed all over the parts of her he could reach, her hips, her stomach, and her supple round ass as he continued to tease her breasts with his mouth.

His erection brushed the inside of her thy and she quivered with anticipation. He brushed the tip of himself up and down her slippery opening his jaw clenched, his every muscle locked as he fought his most basic instinct to plunge into her warmth. But he waited, waited for some sign from her, and when she gave a trembling nod he pushed his manhood all the way inside until the hard bones of his pelvis joined with hers. He froze at the squeal that escaped her quivering lips, unable to tell if it arose from pleasure or pain. From her look of utter shock and wanton need he gathered it was a bit of both.

"I'm not that delicate," She whispered biting her lip to redirect the beautiful pain in her nether regions.

With renewed assurance that she was willing to take all of his love he smiled softly, pulled back, and pushed into her again and again and again as he began to drift into a smooth and steady tempo. She lay at his mercy reveling at the delicious ache of his greater weight upon her breasts as he slid in and out of her taunt wet core.

"Oh my Gods," A lustful groan eased from his trembling lips. Her aching womanhood felt so wonderful wrapped around him it nearly pained him to hold onto his nectar. She began to pour soft wet kisses and tantalizing bites on every part of his body that she could reach. He growled with delight drumming harder faster, deepening his strokes as she spurred him on with her tantalizing kisses, her dainty claws digging into the sweat laden skin of his back. Her wanton cries were like sweet erotic music to his ears.

They felt the passion rising like an inferno in every part of their entwined bodies, shining and slippery with perspiration as they gave all of themselves to one another. Her mind whirling in ecstasy as he pleased every inch of her soft naked body, her loins began to pulsate around his hardness as she cried his name in a steamy climax that left her trembling beneath his eagerly thrusting frame. The ripples of her release were like a shockwave to his system and with five hard sporadic thrusts his seed flooded into her, hot and sweet, bathing the soft walls of her interior. Sweaty, breathless, and completely spent, Mordred collapsed upon her supple mounds. His satisfied manhood felt as if it had a heartbeat of its own as it thumped ever subtly deep inside of her. She gingerly curled her fingertips in his warm wet hair humming softly as he lay upon her breasts.

She grinned devilishly and mused, "So now that you've had me are you over your fancy? Will this infatuation cease?"

Mordred smiled dreamily without opening his eyes reveling in the feel of her delicate fingers caressing his scalp stroking his locks, "Now that I've had you I think we should start making wedding preparations milady."

A sleepy laugh escaped her lips and she dropped a kiss into his curls. A warm tender minute ticked by before he began to stir and disconnect from her. She bristled a little in pain as he slowly slid himself out. He kneeled just above her on all fours gazing down at the most beautiful woman he'd ever been blessed to lay eyes upon.

She smiled softly up into his handsome face and joked, "You weren't serious about making wedding preparations were you?"

"If you'll have me, and you weren't just doing this to get back at Alvarr," He spoke casually brushing his nose with hers before giving it a sweet peck.

_Amazing, he even makes my nose feel good._She could see a sense of peace sweep over him as she said, "I would never use you in such a way and I was over Alvarr the moment you confessed your love. But are you certain you're ready for marriage?"

"Why not give you my undying loyalty and magic? You already possess my heart."

Tears filled her eyes at the tenderness of his words. The love of a teen was not as fleeting as she'd assumed. Sweat had matted loose tendrils of hair to the sides of her face and Mordred brushed them all aside, his face coming down to kiss her soft wet lips; sealing their love, their loyalty, their betrothal in an unhurried and very sensual embrace…

xXx

"I know we've had our differences in the past but I would like to thank you for helping with my wedding preparations," Morgana told Enmyria as the two of them packed up Morgana's belongings.

Enmyria swept a sandy brown tendril behind her ear and smiled, "Its no problem at all. I'd like to think you and I have become friends."

"Sisters in magic," Morgana corrected with a soft smile, "By the way thank you for looking after him."

"Of course milady," Enmyria nodded and looked thoughtfully over to Mordred's bed.

There he lay propped up with a few pillows staring blankly into space, lost in the recesses of his own mind. Mordred had been in a catatonic state for the past twenty-four hours since the poisoned dart pierced his side. He'd never confessed his love to Morgana, never kissed her, never made love to her. These beautiful things were merely hallucinations, side effects of the venom which coursed through his veins.

"What do you think he's dreaming about," Enmyria asked.

"I don't know but whatever it is keeps making him smile," Morgana walked over and sat next to him on the bed gingerly placing a kiss upon his cheek.

She rose and gave Enmyria a teary-eyed embrace before taking up her bags and strolling out the door to marry a man who was unfaithful to her. It would be another twenty-four hours before Mordred's symptoms would subside, and Enmyria would see to it he never spoke a word to Morgana.

The woman with sandy brown hair sat next to him and spoke. "I thought I had heard someone creep up the other night when I was with Alvarr. I brushed it off, thought I was being paranoid. But when you took off on your own without telling anyone I knew what you had witnessed. Alvarr and Morgana's union is best for all of us. Who cares if I still bed him from time to time. This wedding has to happen. I cannot allow you to ruin everything."

_Forgive me Alvarr._ _I know he was like a son to you but we must look at the bigger picture. _Enmyria walked over to the door and did a high pitched bird call. Four slave trappers emerged from the woods. These men were large and imposing. Their beards and clothes and hair were un kept. The brutes looked as if they smelled bad. She invited them in and held her breath as they single filed past her.

"Go ahead examine him," She told the slave trappers.

They opened Mordred's mouth to count and examine his teeth as a determination of his age and to attest to his general health."

"He's seen seventeen winters," She offered with an exasperated breath as she saw one of the brutes struggling to figure out what number came after nineteen.

They moved on to examine his muscles; flexing his joints and listening for popping or grinding noises. Once they'd made sure all was in proper working condition, the barrel-chested one with the bald head called, "Well he's as healthy as you said."

He tossed a sack of silver coins to her and she caught it in the air with a ching. She loosened the sack and poured the money into her palm, briefly counting it with her eyes. She gave an approving grin, "Nice doing business with you."

"Likewise sweet cheeks," Said the bald one she could only assume was the leader.

She forced herself to shake his filthy bloated hand sealing the covenant of Mordred's slavery. The slave trappers shackled the young man's wrists and ankles. Enmyria washed her hands of the filthy barbarians as well as the boy who'd been a persistent thorn in her side. Would Mordred be worked to death in a mine or sold into the sex trade like so many who were young and beautiful? She did not know and she did not care. A satisfied smile creased Enmyria's lips as Mordred was helplessly drug to an unknown fate, bouncing along the bumpy untamed path through The Valley of the Fallen Kings…

**I know this one was strange but isn't everything I write? Lol. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	5. Keep It on the Down Low: Part 2 Mr Big

**Description: Gwen breaks up with Arthur for his own safety. The tragic past she shares with her mob boss boyfriend forever links them, but is Cenred her true love? Arthur is convinced she's making a mistake. Can Arthur convince her to run away with him or will Cenred's connection with her prove too powerful?**

Keep It on the Down Low Part 2: Mr. Big

Their coupling was smooth tonight, gentle and warm like a summer's breeze, almost as if Arthur was afraid of breaking her. Was it possible he knew her secret? The secret that had been dwelling inside of her for two months. No… he couldn't. She hadn't told a soul but the obstetrician. Gwen dismissed the fleeting concern and allowed the pleasure to consume her like an inferno as Arthur's sweat damp chest gently weighed upon and slid against her supple breasts. Each long and languid stroke pinning her hips to the mattress as her shapely legs wrapped around his back, her fingers gripping his naked flexing rear.

Arthur grunted with closed eyes as he made love to her, "Guinevere I…"

"Don't…" She implored him closing her eyes to breathe in the delicious mixture of his sweat and cologne, her hips slowly rocking in rhythm with his own.

She relished in his every groan and gasp and shudder and he likewise lived for hers. This would be their last time together and Gwen might lose the strength to end things if Arthur started speaking those words they forbade from the very beginning, the sweet endearments such an arrangement would not allow for. As long as he didn't say it she could still convince herself it had all been purely physical, selfish lust and nothing more. This was never supposed to get serious. They both knew that.

She was close so close when Arthur ceased moving inside of her. He looked down at the beautiful face of his forbidden lover and bid her to open her eyes. She obliged him.

Still connected he gazed down into the dark pools that were her eyes, "I love you Guinevere."

"Arthur," tears pricked at her eyes and soon they were trickling back toward her ears.

She saw no point in saying it back just for them to be separated forever. So she raised her head from the pillow and kissed him instead, a gentle press which solicited a soft groan from him. His manhood shifted subtly inside of her, perhaps involuntary, she didn't know. All she knew was that it felt wonderful, he felt wonderful, especially as he returned to his languid movements, torturing her with the pleasure of each slow and delicate stroke, running his fingers through her sweat moistened hair, planting kisses on her forehead and cheeks and eyes. Damn did Arthur have self-control. She felt she would go everywhere at once and he felt he needed to savor every drop of her, his beautiful Guinevere.

She could have sworn she felt her heart stop as he slowly pulled out of her, She breathed a sigh of relief and anticipation as Arthur took hold of her waist and flipped them both. He'd been controlled for as long as he could stand and now his need was rapidly intensifying, a tight wave of lust surging over him as he settled comfortably on the bed. She threw one of her legs over to straddle him, her petite hands settling upon his strong chest. She circled her hips around and quite suddenly pressed down gasping as she did so and at the same time he cursed, his hands shooting to her hips, grasping the firm skin. Without rushing and using his chest for leverage, she worked up and down so that he entered her just a little more each time. As she moved lower and lower he began thrusting upward to meet her. In response she would pull away eliciting needy moans and growls from him. At last he grabbed her, but not too roughly, and forced her body down as he pushed up. The both of them cried out in heated moans as he filled her completely, perfectly.

"Goddamn," He cursed as she rode the swing of his hips, delighting in the sensation it brought forth.

She purposefully clenched her womanhood around him, letting out a squeal of delight as the both of them felt their bodies respond. Arthur drew in ragged breaths. He was so close and knew she was too. They moved faster and harder against each other and when Arthur's fingertips went to the place where her thighs came together rubbing her just there, Gwen lost control of her hands and collapsed onto him, screaming her climax with her fists clenched in the sheets at each side of him. Beneath her his bucking became stronger, wilder as he too reached his own culmination.

They lay like this for several long moments as they caught their breath, their bodies coming down from their high of writhing and quivering. Arthur was the first to recover. As he rubbed her back soothingly, her fists slowly loosened from the sheets. Gwen looked up with her chin on his chest and in that one moment, in that one perfect moment, they were tender in the manner that only long-time lovers could be. Egyptian eyes gazing into bright cerulean ones, a tear trickling down her cheek as she told him she loved him but it was over…

xXx

Gwen took a nice long bath when she got home. It was barely midnight and Cenred wouldn't be home from his underground club until at least 3:00am. She loved Cenred in every way a woman could love a man. They'd been together for many years. But he would go months at a time without making love to her. She was physically starving and Arthur's love replenished her soul. Now she was pregnant with no way of knowing for certain who fathered her baby. She felt like a whore, this child deserved better a father a family and Cenred, though a dangerous man, had always looked out for her. If there was ever a time she needed looking after it was now.

Arthur was so sweet and she could not understand how she could love two very different men so intensely. _Slut!_ She berated herself. She knew hell would freeze over before Cenred let her go and she could no longer selfishly risk Arthur's life by sneaking around with him. So upon this chilly Harlem night she'd ended their affair. Her tears soaked into the silk pillow case. This had been a tragically troubled night followed by an even more troubled dream…

xXx

_Twenty years ago, 1911…_

"When can we board momma," Questioned eight year old Gwen as she held her mother's hand on the bustling dock of New Orleans Port.

Her mom bent down to her eye level and whispered sweetly, "Gwen baby, they have to board all the white people first and then we can board."

Elyan, Gwen's slightly younger brother, huffed impatiently as a large group of white passengers arrived extremely late but were of course beckoned to the front of the line. It was Elyan's seventh birthday and he was so excited for this trip that before he could catch himself the words flew from his mouth, "Why do they get to board first? What's so special about them?"

Thomas clapped a hand over his son's mouth. He politely apologized to the white passersby who were now shooting daggers at them.

A woman in elegant white gloves and an expensive wide-brimmed hat snarled at Tom and his wife before addressing her brother in law, "These Niggers don't train their children with any respect for decent white folks Carleon."

Carleon was taken aback. He couldn't stand the woman but she was his brother's widow and the mother of his niece. Young Gwen was amazed that such ugly words could burst from the mouth of such a proper and beautifully dressed lady. Gwen thought to herself, _Is Elyan wrong for thinking we should be treated the same as everyone else?_

It became obvious to Gwen that this man, this Carleon, wasn't from the U.S., especially as a heavy unrecognizable accent rang from his mouth. He was not in agreement with his sister in law though the rest of their party was and that's when Gwen noticed the small raven haired boy around the same age as her. The boy's bark colored eyes fixed on Gwen as if studying her and Gwen stared back.

"Come Cenred," Gwen heard Mr. Carleon call as he gently shuffled the boy forward. A string of friendly sounding words in another language flowed from Mr. Carleon's mouth and young Cenred laughed joyfully, taking his dad's hand. They boarded the large extravagant river boat and entered the V.I.P. section. Accompanying them was a party of at least a dozen finely dressed men and women. With their absence Gwen's family advanced in line a few feet.

Gwen's mom sighed as she was forced to chastise the headstrong Elyan for his own safety, telling him that such thoughts of equality were still unsafe for colored folks. Even though it was 1911 and slavery had long ended this often placed black people in worse danger. Now they possessed no monetary value to their racist counterparts in the post-Civil War south. They were expendable.

Another twenty minutes passed before they were finally at the front of the line, Gwen & Elyan boiling with anticipation.

"What do you mean the price has gone up?"

Gwen looked up at the sound of her father's agitated voice.

Thomas La`Cour questioned the weasel faced ticket clerk, noticing the price for white passengers was lower... much lower. "Sir I've been promising my children for almost a year to take them on the paddle boat. And when I finally have enough money saved you go and raise the prices. Please it's my little boy's birthday."

"Tom," His wife placed a hand on his shoulder, a subtle sign to end his Argument with a white man in public.

The ticket clerk spoke in a friendly voice as if doing them a favor, "You have enough for two tickets. You can send the kids aboard with one of our escorts."

Mrs. La`Cour gave her husband a glare that said HELL NO. But Gwen and Elyan were jumping up and down shouting, "Please daddy Please!" Next came the large puppy dog eyes and the quivering bottom lips, their tiny cherub like hands folded in a plea that rendered him unable to say no… as always.

"Who's the escort," Tom questioned.

The clerk pointed and Tom saw it was a nice black woman they knew from church. He gave her a friendly wave and she waived back with a genuine smile.

"I'll have two tickets Sir," Tom spoke in a small voice without looking at his wife, whom he knew very well was furious.

The clerk ripped the tickets and passed the stubs to Gwen and Elyan who lauded their father the best papa in the world. Tom at last looked at his wife and as expected her arms were furiously crossed over her chest.

"Honey," Tom spoke almost meekly. "They'll be gone two hours tops and we know Berta."

"Okay Tom," She spoke after a long silence her heart lightening as she saw the utter happiness in Gwen and Elyan's tiny faces. They practically ran up the ramp abruptly snatching their escort. With a wave and ecstatic grin to their momma and daddy, Gwen and Elyan boarded the riverboat. The colored folks section was not as luxurious but still rather breathtaking. They held the rail as the giant paddle at the back of the ship propelled them out on the waters.

Cenred's section was a bit more roomy and the refreshments were a little better, but for an eight year old boy this cruise was a mind-numbing bore. His section was full of aristocrats who more often than not, sent their kids off to boarding school or left them at home with nannies. Cenred was the only child in the V.I.P. section and the only passenger who acknowledged his existence was his father. If Cenred wanted children to play with he would have to sneak off to the economy white section of the boat or even the colored area. The moment his dad's back was turned, that's exactly what the little rascal did. Cenred quickly observed that while the rich section had couples, the poor and colored sections had families.

"You talk funny," Gwen said as she, Elyan, and Cenred played Go Fish at a small table.

"I'm from Italia," Cenred laughed. "Do you have any twos?"

"Go Fish," Elyan told him and Cenred pulled a card from the stack.

Elyan liked this Cenred kid and granted him his undivided attention from the moment they met. Cenred told the funniest jokes and he generously shared the toys in his pack. Gwen wasn't so sure about him. She didn't like anyone stealing her brother's attention and that mischievous white boy might get them all in trouble by sneaking over here. She found it ironic that Elyan chose to play a card game that was highly dependent upon trust with a total stranger. In Go Fish you had to trust your opponents to be honest about the cards they held, and how could she trust this funny talking stranger to tell the truth?

Her eyes narrowed on the brother stealing Cenred, "Do you have any tens?"  
With a small smile and no hesitation he passed her a card adorned with ten hearts that allowed her to win the game… This earned him an earnest grin from her so beautiful that Cenred concluded the loss was worth it.

Elyan laughed at him and shuffled the deck, "If you'd lied about having a ten you might have won."

"I did win," Cenred spoke to Elyan while gazing at Gwen. "She smiled at me."

Gwen's small cheeks became a little rosy but she recovered quickly and spat, "You still talk funny."

Elyan laughed and dealt them another hand that they never got the opportunity to play.

The ship would soon begin to sink and Gwen would be saved from a watery grave by the funny talking boy, his native language ringing from his mouth after pulling her from the murky depths. Cenred fought against the strong current, towing Gwen as he swam. He repeated the same two lines in Italian that she couldn't understand and yet drew comfort from. She clung to him, a stranger, placing her life in his hands and praying that Elyan was alright…

xXx

Gwen sat straight up in bed screaming, drenched in a cold sweat. Cenred bolted from down the hall. He burst into her chamber. Tears were pouring from her eyes. He immediately wrapped her in an embrace, rocking his frightened girlfriend as her tears soaked the naked skin of his chest and shoulder. He'd run straight from his bedroom to hers still wearing just his shorts.

He rubbed her back soothingly and placed kisses on the crown of her head. "It's okay Gwennie." A nickname he'd been calling her since childhood.

She clung to him for dear life with the remnants of her nightmare still fresh in her mind. Elyan's cold tiny lifeless body washed assure that afternoon. Her beloved brother had drowned that day the riverboat sank and Cenred had lost his doting father.

Cenred lit the candle next to her bed casting the room in a soft orange glow. Then he held her agitated hands with his own.

"Kiss me," She spoke in a trembling voice. She needed a distraction, an escape. She was shaking all over.

Cenred kissed his frantic girlfriend's lips feverishly until the bad images began to melt away. He guided her back, placing his strong frame upon her thinly veiled body, repeating the same words he said the day he swam her to safety. She still knew not what they meant but drew comfort from them. He pulled her hands above her head and braided his fingers with hers as he started pouring soft wet kisses down her neck. With very little adjusting of their nightwear he entered her body and she held him close, clinging to him for dear life as she'd done the day of the catastrophe. They finished together with a tender moan that seemed more from relief than wanton desire.

He planted a simple chaste peck upon her cheek as he disconnected them, "Are you okay Gwennie?" He asked as they righted their clothes and sat Indian style on her large bed.

He seemed more like a buddy who had just done her a favor than a lover acting on passion and lust.

She smiled and kissed his cheek, just a friendly peck, nothing seductive, "Thank you for what you did."

"Anytime," Cenred pulled a deck of cards from her bedside table and dealt them a hand.

If this had been Arthur, he and Gwen would have lain in each other's arms cuddling lovingly, lazily caressing one another's skin, and whispering sweet nothings. But this was not Arthur. It was Cenred and Gwen had given up on turning Cenred into Arthur. She and Cenred had always been more like best friends than lovers. It was admittedly an odd relationship but it was theirs.

She asked as he dealt the cards, "Your loss that day was even greater than my own. How do you cope?"

Cenred's traumatized mind had created an altar ego, Mr. Big. If ever the hurt became too much for Cenred to bear Mr. Big stepped into the picture. Mr. Big made the tough decisions and that's the name Cenred was addressed with by all the gangsters under his control.

"How do you cope?" Gwen repeated.

Cenred told the half truth as he gingerly brushed her cheek with his knuckles, "I cope by remembering that though I lost my father, I gained a family. My Aunt Katrina abandoned me the moment she got her claws on my trust fund. Your folks saw me begging on the streets and took me in."

"It helped my momma and papa heal when they saw Elyan's room being occupied again, heard a little boy's laughter again. But for me it was like a knife to the heart. I resented you when you first came to live with us but I'll never forget what you said…"

"I will never replace your brother but I would like to be your friend."

Gwen smiled at the thought of Cenred actually remembering that conversation, the glorious day they became pals. She picked up her cards and he did the same, the two of them engaging in a friendly and honest game of Go Fish.

"Gwennie," Cenred spoke nervously with a stupid grin on his face, "I've found a priest who's willing to marry us. Our union won't make a difference in the eyes of the law but if you'll have me…"

Gwen sat speechless, breathless. Half of her yearned to leap into Cenred's arms and put kisses all over his face. They'd waited what seemed an eternity for such an opportunity. But the other half of her yearned to flee from him, and wed Arthur, and be with Arthur forever.

"Gwen" Cenred called softly. "Gwen love."

She looked up at last hearing his voice. Cenred chuckled at her perplexed expression and kissed her goodnight. He tucked her in and blew out her candle. He made his way for the door to return to his chamber. He assured her, "I'll give you some time to think it over."

xXx

It had been three weeks since Gwen walked out of Arthur's life. Arthur tried to forget about her and focus on his work with Cenred: running the underground joints, finding new talent to perform, bootlegging booze etc. Gwen had made her decision so what did Arthur care? To hell with her! And still on this sparkling snow covered morning Arthur found himself picking up the two piece phone. He cranked out the number he'd come to know by heart, on the rotary dial. He held the mouth piece with his left hand and the earpiece with his right. One day he'd work his way up the food chain and be able to afford a fancy desk-set like Cenred: it was a rotary phone as well but much classier and the ear and mouth piece were actually attached to the same handle.

"It's Gwen" Her voice was like a beautiful song after such a long absence.

"Is he around," Arthur's voice was like a replenishing rain after a desert drought.

"It's just me"

Arthur cut straight to the point, "I know you're planning to marry Cenred on Saturday. But if you ever loved me at all you will at least hear what I have to say."

"That isn't fair Arthur."

"What isn't fair is how you left me without giving me a chance to speak my heart. What isn't fair is how you didn't even tell me about the baby."

"Because it isn't your baby!"

"I can count Guinevere! Cenred walked in bragging about the little bundle of joy. He said you were three months along. You got pregnant sometime around the championship fight. And you know what we did that night!"

"Yes the same thing I turned around and did with him Arthur!" Tears filled her eyes and her voice cracked beneath the weight of her emotions. "I'm not worth loving Arthur, I'm not worth caring about, I'm not worth anything. Find a nice girl… not a whore like me."

"Oh Guinevere, you are no such thing." Arthur's heart sank to hear her speak so harshly of herself. _She believes she isn't good enough for me._

"If not a harlot, then what am I?"

He could hear her crying through the phone.

"You're human," Arthur insisted. "You're torn between two men that you love very much, and you're afraid for the life of one of them. Meet me for breakfast Guinevere. We don't have to marry but I think we should talk."

xXx

Arthur sat at his breakfast table alone waiting for Gwen. He didn't even know what he would say but he knew he'd regret it the rest of his life if he didn't at least try. Arthur looked at his bandaged hand and gained a whole new appreciation for his chef, Mabel. He walked over to his collection of vinyl and pulled a Louis Armstrong record from its cardboard case. He placed it in the record player and gingerly set the needle upon its surface. Sweet horn music began to sound throughout the room and Arthur returned to his seat to ponder the words to win her heart. The knocker sounded. Arthur practically ran to the front door. He encircled Guinevere in his arms the instant the door was open. They needed to embrace one another more than they needed air to breathe in this moment.

After just holding each other in sweet beautiful silence for a minute or two Arthur spoke at last, "Now let's feed that baby."

"Sounds good to me," Gwen smiled softly and he led her down the hall. Arthur's house wasn't enormous like her and Cenred's, it was perfectly cozy and quaint, a home.

Arthur walked over to turn off the record player but Gwen assured him, "I love Louis. Please allow it to play a bit longer."

"Very well," Arthur smiled and pulled out her chair for her.

Gwen gasped as she sat at the table, "Is Mabel ill! What happened to the food?"

Arthur laughed and waved his bandaged paw, "I thought I'd do something nice for you and cook. Well I tried to cook."

Gwen stared in horror at the ghastly smorgasbord. The biscuits were crispy black on the outside and doughy in the middle. The bacon was slimy and under cooked. The pancakes looked as if they'd been scrambled rather than flipped. She couldn't tell what was going on with the eggs. That's if she was right in assuming they were eggs.

She smiled at Arthur and lied, "I'm sure it'll be delicious."

Arthur chuckled. "You don't have to eat this poison. Mabel's in the kitchen fixing something edible right now."

_Thank the good lord Jesus. _Gwen prayed. Without further hesitation Gwen addressed the elephant in the room, "I'm marrying Cenred. He's always loved me."

"Yes but not in that way"

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean Guinevere. Cenred does not love you romantically and never has."

"How dare you!"

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings. But you need to be honest with yourself. The two of you are making a mistake by getting married. Cenred grew up in the bedroom down the hall from you, you guys fought in the car on family trips, stood up for one another. You may see Cenred as a lover but he has never seen you as such. You're his sister Guinevere. Perhaps not by blood, but in every other way that's how he sees you. Cenred's too big of an emotional cripple to know the difference between the love one has for a friend and the love one has for a lover. I wouldn't have a pot to piss in without Cenred. It destroys me to betray him, but you deserve better, you both do."

Gwen was fuming. She was hurt. She wanted to lash out at Arthur but her whirling revelations had her frozen in a trance. _Cenred always looks away when I undress. We've always slept in different rooms. The first time he made love to me he spoke the same words he did the day of the shipwreck. The night he took my virginity I asked him what those beautiful words meant. 'Means I love you' he replied. And I believed him until now._

"Arthur," Gwen spoke at last, not wanting to know the answer but needing to. "How's your Italian?"

"Fair," Arthur shrugged at the rather odd question. "Why do you ask?"

She repeated Cenred's words as best she could, and asked almost desperately, "Do they mean I love you? Please tell me they mean I love you."

"Roughly translated it means fear not, I will save you."

Cenred wasn't overwhelmed by passion and lust the evening he took her virginity. He was merely saving her from getting her heart broken by an asshole named Helios. Cenred told Gwen again and again that Helios was a player who used women and threw them away but she wouldn't hear sense. The evening she planned to give Helios her virtue, Cenred seduced her. Now Gwen sat at Arthur's table feeling as if she'd been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. She couldn't breathe and everything hurt. She rose with tears streaming down her face.

"I'm so sorry Guinevere," Arthur called. "What did I say?"

She fled down the hall blinded by her tears, "Cenred never fucking loved me Arthur! NEVER!"

Arthur caught her by the wrist and swung her back into his arms, "Cenred loves you Guinevere. Just not in the same way I love you. I've talked to Gaius and Merlin and their going to help us run away. Marry me."

Gwen's breath caught in her throat and she was once more consumed by that ugly feeling of not being good enough for him, "I can't. We don't even know if you fathered this child."

"Regardless of who fathered it, I want to be the baby's dad and your husband. You would make me the happiest man alive if you married me Guinevere."

Overwhelmed by happiness she nodded yes and he swung her around ecstatically. He placed her back on her feet as a sad thought burned away the happy ones, "Do you honestly love Cenred more than me?"

"No Arthur," She smiled softly through her tears and cupped his cheek. "This pregnancy just made me scared."

"And anytime you've ever been afraid in your life, be it a shipwreck or otherwise, you've clung to Cenred for dear life."

Gwen nodded and they embraced one another so tightly. A tear of relief trickled down Arthur's cheek to know that though she cared for her longtime boyfriend, she loved her pratty infuriating secret lover even more.

"I love you Arthur," She spoke into his shoulder.

"I love you," He solemnly vowed. "And you don't need to cling to Cenred ever again because I'll be here for you Guinevere."

xXx

Gwen arrived at her house much sooner than Cenred was scheduled to be home. She entered the mansion and walked straight to her chamber. She would grab food on the way out. She packed a small knapsack of clothes to wear and a few trinkets to sell in case she and Arthur found themselves in a tight spot. Lastly she reached into her jewelry box and bypassed the expensive rings and necklaces for a single raggedy water damaged playing card. She wept as she kissed the ten of hearts placed it into her bag. _I can't go on living a lie. I can't marry a man who sees me as a sister, but I feel he at least deserves an explanation. _She stopped before Cenred's chamber and slipped a note under the door.

Her heart ceased. She drew no breath as Cenred opened the door, letter in hand. Gwen stood before him speechless. There was no soul behind his eyes. They were ice cold and emotionless. The look on his face was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She'd seen him angry many times before, but nothing like this, and never toward her. So many voices were rattling around in his head. Dr. Gaius had warned him to take it easy until the medication completely balanced his moods. The doctor said that all it takes is one traumatic event to make him snap. Seeing the only woman one's ever committed to with her bags packed would be enough to drive a sane man mad. But being abandoned by the love of his life would push an already unstable man over the edge. Cenred slapped a hand over Gwen's mouth to muffle her screams. He snatched her into his chamber and locked the door behind them.

_**To Be Continued…**_

**Author's Note: Brian and James when I prompted my male readers to start reviewing I had noooo idea what I was in for. You guys are a hot mess! lol. Yes James I will write your Mergana. Downcastlashes and Guest reviewer you wanted a warning. I'm giving you one now. DO NOT read anything I have written lol. My full length fics would traumatize you :^) **

**Thank you all sooo very much for reviewing!**

**-Embrasia-**


	6. Keep It on the Down Low: Part 3

**Description: A dangerous, steamy, and passionate affair is everyone's fantasy... Until you get caught. **

**Will the once and future lovers survive Mr. Big's maniacal wrath?**

Keep It on the Down Low: A Love of Legend

Gwen and Arthur had been betrayed by Arthur's best friend Mordred. Arthur's jealous confidant was a cousin of Cenred's and never liked the fact that Cenred chose Arthur over family. At first Mordred pushed Arthur to run off with Gwen just to have him out of the way, but with Arthur being the best underground brewer in New York Mordred couldn't take a chance on having that kind of competition. He couldn't risk Arthur selling trademark secrets to the competition. Mordred informed Cenred of Gwen and Arthur's plans. Now Cenred had put a hit out on his right hand man and Arthur was likely swimming with the fishes.

With Arthur out of the way it was time for the mob boss to wreak vengeance on his two-timing girlfriend. This was the part Cenred hated the most. He'd stepped outside of himself. He'd separated into two people, the good Cenred and Mr. Big. In his mind he was bound to a chair in the room screaming for the evil one to let her go, the malicious demon baring his own image, the monster that had Arthur thrown to the frozen depths of the Hudson River. There was a set of twins in the chamber, but Gwen was only aware of one of them. Before when things were going well the pills were enough to keep the evil one caged. Most time's Cenred was entirely unaware of him. Now the good Cenred had become a prisoner of his own mind. He was screaming for the dark one to stop hurting her.

Mr. Big gave Cenred a sinister look and yelled, "Shut up! You're weakness disappoints me! You take these pills to get rid of me and now you want a favor. I should've killed her the first time she tried to leave us. You were begging me not to. I have to show her who's boss. I have to kill her!"

Cenred struggled vigorously against his restraints at the sight of Gwen's tears. The dark one struck her hard and she lost consciousness.

Cenred pleaded with Mr. Big, "You don't have to kill her! She loves me! She forgave me for cheating with Morgause! Gwen may come back on her own if you just let her go!"

"Not a chance," The dark one vowed.

Cenred's heart shattered as he reasoned with Mr. Big for sake of saving his friend's life, "Ravish Gwen if her offense was that great. Take her if you must, but please don't kill her."

The dark one tied a gag over Gwen's mouth. He cuffed her unconscious body to the headboard and bound her ankles with rope.

Mr. Big told Cenred with utter irritation, "You've gone so soft lately. Arthur betrayed you, and granted you were going to beat the shit out of him, but you were also going to let him live! And you weren't going to do anything to this unfaithful whore! You've allowed this woman to walk all over you. I'm sick of you making me look bad! You're weak and pathetic because of her! I've had it! She's got to go!"

"Please! I beg of you! It doesn't have to end this way!" Cenred argued.

The dark one growled, "Morgause was the only woman I ever cared for! She was cunning, manipulative, and heartless! The perfect woman, but when she crossed us I was willing to put a bullet in her head so what do you think I'm willing to do to this bitch I never even liked!"

Cenred gasped feeling sick to his stomach. Morgause just disappeared without saying goodbye and now he feared the worst. "Oh my god… You killed her. I loved her and you killed her!"

The monster said nothing to put Cenred's mind and heart at ease. Tears streamed down Cenred's cheeks. Mr. Big had taken one love from him and now the demon loomed over his precious Gwennie. Cenred's heart raced at the sight of the dark one pulling a knife from his pocket. Cenred fought so hard to free himself that the chair he was bound to went crashing to the floor.

He screamed as the monster began to carve Gwen's flesh, "Nooooo!"

Cenred squirmed frantically while on his side in the turned over chair._ I have to save her! I've got to stop him. _Then at last it dawned on Cenred. _If Mr. Big pulled a knife from his pocket that means I have a knife in my pocket._

Cenred wiggled and moved about until the knife fell from his pocket. He gripped the blade and sawed away at his wrist restraints. Finally the threads popped loose. He freed himself and grabbed a bronze candle stick. Cenred rushed Mr. Big and swung with all his might. He caught the dark one in the temple. The lights went out. Both of them collapsed on the ground unconscious.

Cenred woke up an hour later on his chamber floor. He'd recovered from his psychotic break, and there was only one of him again. He ached all over, and had no recollection of what happened. He panicked at the sight of blood on his clothes. _God please let this be my blood. Please say I didn't hurt anyone. _

He pulled himself off the floor, and gasped as he saw Gwen bound to the bed. He hurried over to her. She cringed at the very sight of him; released a bunch of muffled screams.

Cenred urged her to calm down. _I've never seen her so frightened of me. I must've done something dreadful. _

He was relieved to see her cuts were only superficial. He'd carved his initials into her forearm. Finally Gwen stopped squirming for long enough for him to unlock her wrist cuffs. She snatched the restraints from her feet, and grabbed the knife off the bed. She gripped the blade with a trembling hand and backed away slowly.

Cenred called to her, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry for what I've done."

Gwen had figured out the horrifying truth as she watched her deranged lover having a full blown argument with himself. A creature lived inside of him. If only as a sister Cenred loved Gwen more than anyone in the world. He would never harm her but the dark force he was pleading with yearned to render her cold and dead.

Gwen questioned in fear still wielding the knife, "Prove you're the Cenred I love! What's my most prized possession?"

She asked this because he gave it to her before his dark side ever came along. She figured the demon within him wouldn't know the answer.

Cenred replied, "The ten of hearts. That's when I first showed you that you could trust me, that you could love me."

She dropped the knife and cried as she ran over to him.

He wrapped her in his arms so tightly and asked, "What did I do Gwennie? Please tell me what I've done?"

"You don't want to know," She said shaking all over.

"Tell me!" Cenred demanded.

She shook her head and shouted, "No!"

She grew frightened as Cenred pulled a gun from his nightstand. He tried to give the weapon to her. She refused to take it. Tears streamed down her face as he forced her to hold it.

"If I ever threaten you again aim for my heart and pull the trigger," Cenred instructed her with a tap of his chest.

She shook her head no. "I…I can't."

"Yes you can and you will," He assured her.

Cenred pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. "Meet me at the whites' only hospital."

Gwen was confused, "It's a superficial cut and even if I was bleeding to death they wouldn't treat me."

"Just meet me in the parking lot."

Cenred looked upon her injured arm in utter shame and disgust. The bloody letters, **CD**, made his stomach roll with guilt and nausea. He heaved abruptly, but fought the vomit back down. He ripped the sleeve from his shirt with one powerful yank and bandaged Gwen's wound with it.

He loved her but he needed her gone so he could make some calls and figure out what the hell he'd done with Arthur. If Mr. Big was willing to murder Gwen, Arthur was likely already dead but Cenred hadn't the heart to tell her as long as there was still a glimmer of hope.

As Gwen backed away with the gun and the document Cenred implored her, "Please forgive me Gwennie."

She sadly replied, "You never had to ask."

He walked over and kissed her goodbye. He gently and reluctantly pulled her hands away from the back of his neck knowing that Arthur was better for her. Arthur and Gwen were madly in love and all Cenred's presence did was blind her to that fact.

"I love you," She wept and honestly meant it. He'd been her first love, just not her true love.

"I love you too," He vowed with equal vehemence and tears. "That's why you have to go," He nudged her toward the door and she was gone. _I can't have her around in the event that I come across a corpse rather than a living Arthur. It'll be too much for Gwen._

Before Cenred could call his hit man, Myror phoned him.

"It's done boss," The assassin's voice echoed through the telephone.

"What did you do with Arthur," Cenred questioned.

"I was going to put two bullets in his chest and one in his head, quick, clean, simple. But you said you wanted him to die in the most horrible frightening way you could imagine."

"I told you to drown him," Cenred regretfully concluded. He steadied his breathing to keep from gasping.

"Yes Sir Mr. Big," Myror assured. "I tied Arthur to the south dock of the Hudson River, to tremble in horror, and desperation as the waters rose inch by inch. I'll return to confirm the kill in an hour."

"No need," Cenred hurried off the phone. He raced to the docks. If Arthur hadn't already drowned, the freezing temperature of the river would certainly kill him…

xXx

It didn't take long to spot Arthur's unmoving form bobbing subtly with the icy waves. A heavy rope bound his arms and legs to a wooden leg of the dock. Cenred charged down the snow covered planks leaving footprints as he ran. With the knife firmly clenched between his teeth Cenred dropped into the drink like a scuba diver. His body nearly went into shock as the frigid waters enveloped him like an icy blanket of death. He could barely move his muscles let alone swim but he willed himself forward. His warm breath steamed the cold winter air. He took a great breath into his lungs. Plunged deep. By feel alone he found the rope which bound Arthur's ankles and began to saw it off. The threads popped loose. Cenred surfaced with a gasp. A large cloud of vapor fogging the air above him. He freed Arthur's wrists next, thankful he hadn't drowned. Arthur's nose was just above the surface of the water but he was a popsicle. His lips and fingertips were blue. His skin was pale and lifeless. Icicles dangled from his blonde locks. Arthur had been in the elements so long his body was frozen stiff. He was like a pile of boards nailed together at awkward angles and he proved difficult for Cenred to swim with. Cenred soon became aware of the harsh reality that if he didn't let Arthur go they would both embrace a watery grave.

Cenred screamed into the night as he fought with all his might to keep them afloat, "SOMEONE HELP US PLEASE! HELP US!"

xXx

_14 Years Later…_

It had been hard at times raising her daughter alone but Guinevere managed with the love and support of her mom and dad. Gwen's beautiful daughter Casey was headstrong and adventurous like her late Uncle Elyan. Casey stood up for others and was charitable like Gwen. And the thirteen year old was brave and noble like the man Gwen knew beyond the shadow of a doubt was her father, Arthur Pendragon. Casey was the spitting image of Arthur and Gwen often received funny looks from people in public. A black woman walking around with a white looking child still caused a stir even in 1945. Every time Gwen looked upon the dazzling blue eyes of her daughter, the sea of wind swept blond tresses, she missed Arthur so much. Gwen missed Cenred as well it seemed forever since the last night she saw both men.

Gwen wiped a single tear from her cheek as she gazed out of the kitchen window at her lovely and spirited daughter. Casey was in the yard gossiping and giggling with her friend, Morgause's daughter Alex; who was the spitting image of Cenred: tall for a girl, olive toned, gorgeous raven hair. Initially Gwen loathed Morgause for stealing her first love, but with both women being without their men they found themselves reaching out to one another, and raising their daughters together like family. Before Cenred was being medicated he threatened the life of Morgause for skimming money off the top. She was his accountant turned lover and she feared Mr. Big would kill the child growing inside of her if she stayed. With no one else to turn to a pregnant Morgause reached out to Cenred's foster parents. Thomas and Laura took her in without a second thought. Any child of Cenred's was a grandchild of theirs. Knowing Gwen would feel betrayed they never mentioned this until they had to when Gwen moved back home.

Morgause wasn't open about her feelings like Gwen but Gwen could tell the guarded strong willed blonde was missing Cenred. Billie Holiday's enchanting voice was flowing from the record player and Morgause was thoughtfully having a glass of wine in the den of Gwen's childhood home. Tom and Laura La`Cour had stepped out to pick up a few things for the party. Morgause smiled as Gwen entered the chamber and poured her a glass.

"Thank you," Gwen spoke genuinely as she took the glass and seat next to her. "The guests will be here soon. And I haven't a clue what to say."

"Well you better figure out soon," Morgause grinned leaping from her seat, "Because here come the guests of honor."

Gwen sprang from her seat. She whipped around to the picture window. Arthur and Cenred, dressed in crisp military uniforms, had arrived just in time for their coming home parties. The war veterans were joyfully embracing the daughters they hadn't seen since the girls were seven. A second World War had called the men to duty for several years and now they had finally returned to the women they love. Gwen had never pictured Arthur or Cenred as soldiers but there's nothing like a near death experience to make you realize you have a greater calling than being a criminal. If not for a fortune teller named Morgana, Gaius and Merlin might have never found them in time. Arthur and Cenred were both hospitalized for hypothermia and Arthur lost two toes to frost bite, but other than that the men made a full recovery. Once their wounds were healed they mended their friendship as well. Cenred took a careful regimen of antipsychotic pills until Mr. Big disappeared forever. Mordred was later taken prisoner by the American government for being a double agent during World War II; He was executed for treason and his death was the only one Gwen did not shed a tear over.

Gwen ran as fast as her legs would carry her until the majestic New Orleans sun warmed her skin and Arthur's loving embrace warmed her heart. She'd spent so many nights wondering if he'd ever come back to her. Now they were in each other's arms and she could not believe it. Casey joined the hug crying as hard as her mother, with joy and relief and every great and wonderful human emotion. Arthur held the two women he loved more than life itself, never feeling so divinely blessed. What started out _On the Down Low _had become a parenthood, a marriage, and an irrevocable love of legend…

~The End~

**Thank you for reading and reviewing **_**Keep It on the Down Low**_** :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	7. Let Me Love You Down

**Description: When Gwen enrolls at Avalon High the troubled junior falls irrevocably in love with her history teacher. She soon makes the risky move to steal Arthur's phone number. Could it be the start of something legendary? Rated very M for statutory situations. **

**This chapter features a song by Inoj.**

Let Me Love You Down

Gwen Queen had been in love with Arthur King since her first day of class. As the daughter of a career military man she'd bounced from school to school all of her life, and the first day had always been painful because asshole teachers would force her to stand in front of a room full of strangers and talk about herself. As if being the new kid wasn't awkward enough. But Mr. King, as Arthur was known by his students, never put her on the spot or made her uncomfortable. He reached out to her, helped her adjust, and settle in. With Arthur having lost his mother at an early age he could identify with Gwen's pain and emptiness, even the way she rebelled at times. There were moments when he seemed to be the only one who understood her which further fueled her infatuation with the delectable older man.

Gwen had attended more than ten schools and she always managed to befriend the absolute worst students at each institution. This year's delinquent was Morgana Pendragon. At the moment both girls along with Gwaine, another rebel, were cruising back to school to catch the last half of the day. They'd ditched second and third hours to hang out at Morgana's pad. Gwen could hear an old song that was rapidly becoming her favorite tune humming lowly through the antique radio. She cranked it. Gwaine and Morgana both laughed knowing exactly why she loved those lyrics so much. Gwen ignored her buddies' teasing and sang along with the fast paced tune:

_It never really mattered too much to me.__  
That you were just too damned old for me.__  
All that really mattered was you were my boyfriend.__  
And babe, that's all that mattered to me._

Let me love you down, even if it takes all night.

_Let me love you down, you know it's gonna be so right._

"We'll see how much you sing after you get his ass thrown in jail," Gwaine teased as he made a sharp left turn.

Gwen shoved him playfully and continued to bob along to the melody:_  
_

_Remember when you drove me home from work.__  
I love the way you kiss me bye. Mmmm...__  
All of your friends think I'm just too young for you.__  
So tell them I can do what girls their age can do. Oh babe ..._

Let me love you down, even if it takes all night.

_Let me love you down, you know it's gonna be so right.__  
Let me love you down, even if it takes all night.__  
Let me love you down, you know it's gonna be so right. Oh...__  
_

Gwaine waved her off as he drove down the road, "You're wasting your time Gwen. He's a teacher. Your teacher."

Seeing that twinkle of jealousy in his eyes sparked Morgana to join Gwen in song, both girls singing happily at the top of their lungs:

_It never really mattered too much to me.__  
That they were just too damn blind to see.__  
As long as I could love you down, baby just be my man.  
That's all that mattered to me._

Let me love you down, even if it takes all night.

_Let me love you down, you know it's got to be so right.__  
Let me love you down, Ooooooo__  
Let me love you down, I know, I know, I could.__  
Love you, down, down, Ooooooo__  
Love you down, down, Know, Know, Know, Know, Know, Know, Know,__  
Let me love you, I wanna love you, Down.__  
Let me love you, I wanna love you, Down babe…_

Gwaine gratefully killed the radio as he turned into the school's parking lot. He parked and before he could stop Morgana she was charging toward the vehicle of her arch nemesis with the bucket of paint they had bought for the pep rally. Gwaine and Gwen whipped the car around after her.3

"Morgana! Get back in the car now before you get us all thrown in jail Gwen screamed from the passenger's seat.

"I'm almost done Gwen just give me one more second!" Morgana hollered back. She shoved the brush into the tub of black paint and sloshed the letter **L** on the silver F-150 pick-up.

"Come on Morgana! Lunch is about to start any minute! The parking lot will be flooded with people!" Gwaine bellowed from the driver's seat as Morgana added the letter **E** to the truck.

She stepped back for just a moment to admire her artwork. The word "Asshole" in all capital letters laid painted sloppily across the hood of the glimmering silver pick-up. Avalon High School's deafening bell sounded off. C-lunch was now in session. Gwen glanced in the side mirror. She gasped. A parade of students were flowing from the school exits.

"Holy shit!" She screamed, realizing they were busted.

Gwaine jumped out and tossed Morgana in the back seat of his vehicle. He threw the 69 Firebird in gear. Squalled tires out of there. They bolted across the student parking area. Entered the building through an unlocked basement window. Gwen looked around the noisy musty boiler room, and leaned against a pole to catch her breath.

"I'm going to the guys' locker room to rinse the paint off my hands. I'll meet you guys in the cafeteria." Gwaine whispered before sneaking out.

The two girls proceeded to the ladies' bathroom like a Navy Seal team on a covert op: giving silent signals to one another, ducking, and tiptoeing in a stealthy fashion. At last they reached their destination. Gwen slipped into the lavatory behind Morgana and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Don't you think you may have gone a bit too far this time?" Gwen scolded her while standing in front of the full length mirror brushing the sweat matted kinks from her wavy chocolate tresses.

"I despise Principal Sarrum." Morgana hissed, "He's always on my ass!"

Gwen sighed. In the short time she'd lived in Avalon she had noticed that the principal singled out Morgana Pendragon. But Gwen had to say, "I'll always back your play because you always back mine, but the crap you pull affects more than yourself. Gwaine and I would've gone down with you." Morgana lowered her gaze as Gwen continued. "You owe me."

Morgana already knew what she was referring to. Morgana was a service student for the office and Gwen had been begging for a peak at a certain teacher's file. Morgana sighed long and deep, "I got Mr. King's number a week ago but wasn't sure if I should give it to you."

Gwen gasped. She felt betrayed, "You've been holding out for a week?!"

"Think about what you are doing. If this goes badly you could be expelled for harassing a teacher. If it goes well you'll be in an illegal relationship that you have to hide."+

"I love him Morgs"

"Very well," Morgana reluctantly pulled out her cell and forwarded the number in a text.

Gwen grinned ecstatically as her purse vibrated and lights flashed through the material. You would have sworn she hit the lottery. She willed her breathing to steady and turned back to the mirror. She scanned her plaid skirt and white button down top for traces of paint. She adjusted her knee socks and straightened her uniform. Once she was satisfied she walked over to the sink to help Morgana get the black stains out of her long sleeve shirt. Morgana turned back to the mirror over the sink and tossed her lustrous raven hair in a ponytail.

They pulled themselves together, and proceeded to the packed cafeteria. They left the lunch line with their food trays and spotted Gwaine at a table all over this week's girlfriend. Gwaine broke the lip lock for long enough to tell the other juniors to move aside and make room for Gwen and Morgana.

"So what's this one's name? Or shall I just call her April for the current month," Morgana asked sarcastically before digging into her veggie pizza and curly fries.

Gwen elbowed her and properly introduced them. "Hi my name is Gwen and this is my friend Morgana." She set her fork aside and shook the pretty blonde-haired girl's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Said this week's girlfriend. The girl turned to Morgana with an outstretched hand and a smile. "I'm Vivian."

"Whatever April," Morgana said with an exasperated breath and a roll of her big green eyes.

"Morgana don't…" Gwaine started.

He did change girls like underwear but he'd never actually slept with any of them. He wouldn't make that step until he had a girl he was sure about and for once he felt as if he did. To most she seemed flighty and shallow but he knew the true Vivian, the very heart of her. Deep down she was misunderstood like he was.

Morgana gave the oops look. _He's actually serious about this one!_

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table and Gwen sought to lighten the mood. "My dad's deployed again. I'll have the house to myself for two whole months. No curfew! No parents! No rules!"

"Party at Gwen's!" Gwaine announced giving her a high five.

"I already found a buyer for the keg and…"

Gwen stopped in the middle of her sentence when she noticed a disgruntled Principal Sarrum weaving a staggered line through the tables. He was headed in their direction. Her heart stopped in her chest as the balding middle-aged man stood there before them. _This is it, were screwed. _

Principal Sarrum cleared his throat. "Gwaine how many times have I told you that this is an institution of learning not a hotel room! You've just earned yourself three days of detention."

Gwen let out a sigh of relief. _It sucks for Gwaine to be in detention but I'm so happy I'm not in trouble that nothing else matters._

Principal Sarrum weaved his way back across the cafeteria. Gwaine and Morgana laughed hysterically at Gwen's paranoia.

"You almost pissed yourself didn't you!" Gwaine stated between chuckles.

"Shut up!" Gwen hurled a carrot at him.

"You've really got to lighten up Gwen." Morgana added.

Gwen forced a smile. _I want to relax but how can I after I've sent the most important text message of my life. It simply read: _

_Dear Mr. King, _

_Let me Love you down._

_Gwen_

xXx

Sixth hour rolled around. Gwen balanced her seat on its two back legs throwing surreptitious glances at her favorite teacher. It was obvious he hadn't yet read her message. "Queen Guinevere," Arthur called out as he sat behind his desk taking attendance.

"Mr. King actually it's Guinevere Queen," She sweetly corrected him for the hundredth time.

Arthur smiled gently, his silvery blue eyes focused on her, "Well I like it the other way around. It sounds like the legend."

Gwen practically melted into a puddle. Even the way he spoke her name was enough to set her soul on fire. Arthur finished making his way down the list as if he didn't even know the things he did to her. Gwen was jolted from the intrinsic high of their thirty second conversation as a paper plane smacked her in the temple. Gwen whipped around. She looked to her far left with furrowed brows and pursed lips. There sat Demarcus Helios feverishly concentrating on work they hadn't been assigned yet, an obvious cover. She didn't even bother to open his note. She already knew it would say the same thing the last three did: 'Will you go with me? Yes or no. Circle only one'. Next to him sat Merlin who had a pencil sticking out of each nostril making faces at an unimpressed Morgana. High school had slim pickings for mature mates which further steered Gwen in Mr. King's direction.

Arthur wagged a disapproving finger, "I saw that Helios. You'll be eating lunch with me for the next two days."

"Come on man," Helios protested but it fell upon deaf ears.

Gwen knew this arrangement was meant as a punishment, but she yearned to hit Helios in the eye with her fist if it would land her two lunches with the dreamy Arthur King. She sat there panting like a dog on a summer's day as Arthur began the afternoon's lesson. His firm ass looked amazing in his expensive creased pants, his white button down shirt draping perfectly from his broad solid shoulders, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows revealing toned muscular forearms. She could only imagine what the rest of him looked like and she often did. He stopped abruptly as he noticed the envelope icon on his phone. Everyone knew he worked at this time. It had to be important. Gwen just about fainted as he told the class to hold on and silently checked the text. With eyes the size of dinner plates Arthur excused the class early. They cheered and practically ran from the room leaving a cyclone of papers and pencils. Gwen, unsure of what to do, made an attempt for the door with the rest. But Arthur caught her arm. Without words Arthur pulled the shades closed and turned off the florescent lights.

He locked the classroom door and beckoned in that mesmerizing voice of his, "Come to me."

"Yes Sir," She spoke in a trembling voice.

"Guinevere this can only happen once," He informed her as he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "If you tell I will not only lose my job, I will go to prison… Prison Guinevere," He repeated sternly.

"I understand," She said nervously.

"Do you truly want to do this?"

"Yes" she spoke breathlessly. "I have to have you."

He cleared his desk with one big swoosh. Mugs and pencils went colliding with the linoleum. He took her gently into his arms and sat her on his desk, the cool metal chilling the exposed skin on the back of her shapely thighs. They kissed feverishly, hungrily as they unbuttoned each other's shirts. Arthur might have ripped the damn thing if she wouldn't have had to walk home exposed and vulnerable. She loosened his neck tie and opened the last button, biting her lip at how ripped he was. She could already see a nice size bulge even through his trousers and she quivered with anticipation and a modicum of fear. She lay back upon his desk ready to receive, wanting, needing whatever came next. He smiled down at the glorious vision of the forbidden beauty, his strong hands leaving a trail of chalk dust on her thighs as he traveled beneath her pleated skirt. He slowly pulled a pair of plain cotton panties off of her and placed them in his pocket. This could only happen once and he needed something to hold onto. She likewise removed the tie from his neck for the same reason. Arthur feverishly undid his belt and button. Gwen shivered at the sound of his zipper, at the muffled thump of his pants hitting the floor. He leaned over her, his strong bare chest pressed to her bra covered breasts, the two of them fighting to steady their breathing.

He braided his fingers with hers and whispered against her lips, "If it hurts squeeze my hand okay."

"Mm hm" she whispered back against his.

What could normally be done in one smooth motion took Arthur a couple tries. Gwen was so young and untouched and the last thing he wanted was to harm her. He entered her as slowly as he could. The sharp pain of his entry left her with no choice but to believe it was happening.

"I know this is wrong," He groaned breathlessly as he pumped into her wetness feverishly, greedily consuming her, "But I love you."

"I love you too," She clawed at his shirted back her mouth gaped in shock and pleasure until he took her lips with his own.

She broke their kiss and brought his hand to her mouth, licking and sucking the light dusting of chalk from his fingertips, an erotic reminder that her dream had come true. She was actually fucking her teacher, and he was fucking her right on the desk he graded her papers on. She cried out her fiery orgasm without meaning to but this only fueled Arthur's passions, causing him to pump harder, drumming all the way into her. Gwen gasped as he removed himself abruptly. He moved his hand on himself just a few times and his seed spilled on the floor in a series of splats, his face twisted with determination and desire from having a long awaited need fulfilled.

He righted his clothes, sank into his chair, looked away in shame with tears in his eyes. He'd never crossed the line with a student but there was something about this girl. _I feel like a pervert. I feel like a bastard._

"I know what you're thinking," Gwen spoke after catching her breath, her heart slowing to a normal rate. "You think you took advantage of me."

"Well didn't I," Arthur droned.

"I wanted this remember"

He turned to face her at last, so relieved to meet her smiling face. She kissed his lips sweetly and dressed herself, all but the panties Arthur kept in his pocket.

He smiled at her repeating her name, "Gwen… Gwen… Gwen…"

Gwen snapped out of her erotic fantasy of banging her teacher. Her imagination had run away with her again. Class was still in session and Arthur had been calling her name for quite some time, "Please tell us the significance of the _Louisiana Purchase_ as well as which president made it."

"Oh… Um… The _Louisiana Purchase _was made by Thomas Jefferson. It was so significant because it doubled the size of the United States," She replied.

Arthur was pleased with the answer but still gave her a look that said 'keep your head out of the clouds and on your school work'.

Arthur returned to chalking important historical dates and names on the blackboard. Did he even know Gwen was alive? Or did he just not care that she was in love with him? At twenty-three he was after all the youngest and hottest professor at Avalon high. He had no shortage of plaid-skirted admirers. As Gwen looked around the class half full of drooling young women she realized she was one of many.

She sighed and sank low in her chair at that revelation. _In less than an hour school will be out and he will have read my text. I'll bury my head in my history book so the time will pass that much faster. _A sense of relief enveloped her like a cool refreshing breeze until she remembered that he could very well reject her. And not only that, he could throw her out of school. How would she ever explain it to her father? How could she explain it to her grown brother Elyan who was also deployed? Had she made a mistake in texting Arthur?

She willed herself to focus on early American colonization or whatever Arthur had been lecturing on for the past thirty minutes. She feverishly jotted notes and read passages in her textbook until the bell rang. She cleared out along with the class watching from afar as Arthur checked his phone for real this time. His eyes bulged which sent a shiver down her spine. His jaw dropped causing her heart to pound like a war drum. Arthur turned a shade of red she thought impossible of a human being and she could not tell if her teacher was angry or just embarrassed. Her heart skid to a stop at the sound of a faint buzzing noise. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as she fished in her bag for her phone. Did he love her or want nothing to do with her? Would she get expelled or laid by a hottie? All of these questions burned at the pit of her stomach, burned to the depths of her soul, and as her eyes devoured the glowing screen she knew the answer…

**I wrote this because I think most of us, male or female, have had a teacher we've wanted to bonk (mine was Mr. Mills) lol. Thank you for reading and reviewing! :^)**

**-Embrasia-**_  
_


	8. Let Me Love You Down: Part 2

**Author's Note: To answer Sherri's excellent question, there are two versions of the **_**Love You Down **_**song. The first was performed by Ready For The World, and was written for an older woman. The version I used was performed by Inoj and was written for an older man. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused. And I'd like to take this moment to sincerely thank you as well as my guest reviewers for your kind responses. And much appreciation goes out to the members of this site who encourage me with your reviews. Thanx for being patient, supportive, and nonjudgmental of my unconventional writing style :^)**

**-Embrasia-**

**Description: Arthur has a tough decision to make after being seduced by his student, the beautiful Guinevere Queen. Will the dreamy high school teacher hold fast to his honor or succumb to his mounting desires?**

Let Me Love You Down: Part 2 Age Aint Nothing but a Number

After a few quick adjustments to her wardrobe Gwen exited the restaurant bathroom. She bid farewell to her brother and father and wasted no time in making her way to the car. It had been a wonderful outing. Elyan and Tom were back and they had taken her out to celebrate after her high school graduation. Her family was whole again. It was the best night of her life and it would only get better if things went smoothly with her beloved teacher Mr. King.

She started the car. Her hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel. She'd never been so nervous in her life. If she didn't do something to calm herself she would crash and die before she made it to him. She attached her IPod to her car stereo and played her favorite song by the late great recording artist Aaliyah. Gwen felt her tension melt away as she drifted down the road to the smooth melody:

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

Gwen merged onto the expressway willing her breathing to steady and her heart to stop pounding. She drew confidence from Aaliyah's words and even greater strength from thoughts of Arthur.

_Here I am and there you are  
Your eyes are calling me to your heart  
All you gotta do is knock and I'll let you in  
Then we will feel the passion that flows within_

_I don't mean to be bold but I gotta let you know  
I got a thing for you and I can't let go, my_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

Arthur's home looked more like a palace. Gwen had often wondered how he could afford to wear Armani suits and drive a Lamborghini on a teacher's salary. So she Googled him and discovered he was the heir of a diamond mine. Mr. King was one of the few teachers she'd met that actually took up the career because he believed in what he did and found it rewarding. This made her love him all the more.

Gwen drew in a deep breath and knocked. Arthur opened his door to find her donned in a ceremonial cap and gown from this morning's commencement.

"Guinevere? How did you get my address?" He wasn't mad, just a bit curious.

She replied with a devilish smirk, "The same way I got your phone number Mr. King."

He laughed a little but informed her dutifully, "You shouldn't be here Guinevere. You're a minor and a student."

She smiled seductively and sauntered passed him, inviting herself in despite his words. "I haven't been a minor since last week." She tossed her square cap down on his coffee table and began to unzip the shiny polyester robe. "And I haven't been a student since this morning."

_Take my hand and come with me  
And let me show you true ecstasy  
Boy be brave don't be afraid  
'Cause tonight we're gonna go all the way_

_I don't mean to be bold, I gotta let you know  
I got a thing for you and I can't let go, now_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This lovin' I have for you  
It'll never change_

Arthur stood frozen. His bottom jaw hit the floor. Gwen had nothing on under her graduation gown. NOTHING! He was awestruck, speechless as the unzipped black robe hung from her beautiful shoulders baring every soft lovely curve in between. He regained his composure and swept her up into his arms. Without words he carried her up the spiral staircase to the master bedroom.

"Do you trust me," He whispered seductively as he gazed down at her in all her glory.

She nodded and he pulled the gold honor chords from around her neck, used them to bind her wrists to his headboard, and then he went to work. Running his glorious tongue over every inch of her beautiful body as she moaned and squirmed and begged for more. Just as she thought she could stand the mounting pressure no longer, Arthur rose and removed his shirt and then his pants causing Gwen to breathe in sharply at the vision of his naked statuesque form. She shivered with anticipation as sweat made her forgotten commencement robe cling to what little flesh it covered. Arthur crawled up her body slowly and when she nodded her consent he shoved all of his steely rod into her. She gasped and bit her lip as he fucked her hungrily. She braided the fingers of her bound hands together almost in prayer for this ecstasy to never end. She'd done it before just a few times but it was never like this, never this intense and powerful and mind blowing. And she realized that's because she'd been doing it with a boy, but Arthur was giving her grown man dick, the addictive sort of love that would make her vow to never allow another man to touch her. Her legs squirmed in ecstasy at each side of him as he grunted and thrusted and gave it to her so good she wept in pleasure. He buried his mouth in her neck, suckling passionately, leaving tantalizing bites on her sensitive flesh as his sweaty rippling form collided with her soft body.

"I'm gonna cum Mr. King," Gwen spoke in a breathless trembling voice.

She still called him by title and he had to admit that was hot. He kept very still to hold onto his semen. Her words nearly ended him but he soon regained the confidence and control of an older experienced man, "Do it Guinevere. Cum for me Love." His words tickled her ear along with his soft wet tongue. He gripped her smooth thigh and drove into her so hard she cried his title once more in climax. With just five more strokes he pulled out of her convulsing in ecstasy as he spilled his seed on the comforter. He pulled her honor chords from her wrists and peeled the sweat soaked robes of her commencement from her body almost as if stripping her of all that was left of the student. She was a woman now, Arthur's woman.

He pulled her into his arms and spooned with her. Lazily grazing her honey skin with his fingertips, "I love you Guinevere."

"I love you Arthur," It was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name and they both smiled at the knowledge that at last they were equals.

The loud ringing of the school bell caused Arthur to snap out of his erotic fantasy about his student. It was nowhere near Gwen's graduation day. She wouldn't even be seventeen for another two months. He doubted the child even had her driver's license. How could just one text from this teen girl cause his imagination to run wild like this? He sat behind his desk marveling at her text a moment longer. His face flushed rose red with embarrassment of the knot it had put in his pants. He grew even redder at the guilt he felt for his thoughts of tying a teenage girl to his headboard and fucking her without a conscious. This teacher would certainly need a cold shower when he got home. He was hard as stone just reading her words on the screen:

_**Dear Mr. King,**_

_**Let me Love you down.**_

_**Gwen**_

Arthur gave himself a mental slap. _She's a teenager! What the hell is wrong with me?!_ Gwen's words were flattering but highly inappropriate. How could she have zero respect for his authority as her teacher? As he spotted her gazing through the window at him trying to judge his reactions, he promptly texted her back.

Gwen stood in the bustling school yard anxiously fishing for her phone as a sea of uniform clad boys and girls buzzed all around her. She clutched the devise almost afraid to look. Did Mr. King love her or want nothing to do with her? Would she get expelled or laid by a hottie? All of these questions burned at the pit of her stomach, burned to the depths of her soul, and as her eyes devoured the glowing screen she knew the answer…

Her face darkened with disappointment as she read his words. Gwen heard Gwaine honk his horn and she graciously turned down a ride from her friend today. A nice long walk home would give her time to reflect and she had a lot of reflecting to do. Mr. King hadn't given her a _no_. But it wasn't exactly a _yes_ either. His reply text set up a date with her, but it was for fourteen months in the future. She had to convince him to have her now. She was ready now. Why couldn't he see how much she loved him? She feverishly typed a message on her phone and pressed send:

_I don't mean to be bold but I gotta let you know  
I got a thing for you and I can't let go, oh my_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change_

She met Arthur's beautiful blue eyes as he made his way across the faculty parking lot with the smooth confident gate of a king. As always his gaze ceased her very breath and choked her heart to a stop. Had her message convinced him to make love to her now? To be with her if only in secret? A small smile flitted across his perfect pink lips as he pressed send on his cell phone. She gazed down at her screen:

_**Guinevere,**_

_**I'm going to wait for you because it's the right thing to do. Will you wait for me?**_

_**Arthur**_

Sixteen year old Guinevere sighed and typed the single word: _**Yes**_.

His next message read: _**I'm waiting because I care. Do you love me?**_

_**With all my heart**_, She typed back and that was the extent of their conversation.

It was apparent her teacher was a man of honor. He was not going to touch her a moment before she was of age. She turned from Arthur with a flutter in her heart and a pleasant smile on her lips. She put in her earbuds, tapped the Google Play app on her phone, and strolled home dreamily with whirling erotic thoughts of Mr. King and the enchanting voice of Aaliyah.

_Age ain't nothing but a number  
Throwing down ain't nothing but a thing  
This loving I have for you  
It'll never change…_

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	9. For the Love of a Druid Woman

**Description: When disease greatly diminishes the white colonial population Governor Cenred orders every able-bodied man to take a bride. But during a time of prejudice & intolerance Percival's deafness makes it hard for him to find love. Cenred arranges a marriage for Percy unaware of Morgana's roots. Will ignorance & religious persecution kill their love before it can blossom? Or will Percival brave the wrath of the Puritans & hell itself **_**For the Love of a Druid Woman**_**?**

_Wickham Village, Massachusetts Colony 1692 _

For the Love of a Druid Woman: _Part 1_ _Beginning of the End_

"You cannot do this!" I screamed, fear choking my throat. "I've done nothing wrong!"

Puritan officers in tall black hats with buckles drug me to my front door and over the threshold. I heard shocked murmurs and whispered questions as they roughly shuffled me through the commons. The torch lit prison loomed ahead, a low clapboard building behind the meetinghouse.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" I cried, the words bursting from my throat.

The evil one ceased on the path. Hatred burned in his eyes as they locked on mine. His voice was low and steady. "You will burn before week's end."

I've seen five dawns since the evil one's cold cruel words burrowed into my soul. Now I sit condemned, convicted, in a stonewalled pit with my wrists shackled above my head. I guess a normal prison cell is far too good for one like me. I suppose you're wondering why I have to die at the ripe old age of fifteen. Join the club. So am I. It's my fourth most contemplated question behind, why can I see the moon during the day sometimes, why do we need both **C **and **K **in the alphabet when they make the same exact sound. And the question I've wondered most often throughout my life is why everyone can't be equal. Why am I a lesser person simply because of my magical lineage? My name is Morgana and I'm a druid, or at least I will be until my body is consumed by billowing flames. A gruesome and excruciating death awaits me and all I can seem to think about is those 30 wonderful nights. Most believe my heart will stop when I am burned to death in town square. The truth is my heart ceased to beat the moment I laid eyes on him. Time stood still, the world disappeared, and all that remained was his face…

The fire crackled softly in the hearth that morning. A loud pop sent up a shower of glowing red embers which died at my bare calloused feet. My shoes had been taken away two weeks ago to teach me a lesson in humility. My mistress finds me mouthy. If I neglected to mention it before, I'm an indentured servant; which is sort of like being a slave aside from the fact that indenturement lasts for a term of 10-20 years and slavery is usually for life. I've served six of my ten year sentence working for no compensation as Mr. and Mrs. Sarrum's housekeeper. My ten year term was to pay for my trip to the America's. I'd barely seen nine winters when my dying mother sent me here, ironically to escape religious persecution. Dear mother had not realized that I would encounter just as much hatred and ignorance in the land of the _free_.

The fire pops again and I'm instantly reminded of my long list of duties. After straightening the starched white apron I wear over my heavy dark maroon skirt, I bend over the bake kettle to lift the heavy lid and peer inside. In the small nursery behind me the baby starts to cry. I hear the floorboards creek as Mrs. Sarrum makes her way to the cradle to see what the problem is.

"Morgana!" As always Mrs. Sarrum's tone is scolding. "You've wrapped Jeffrey too tightly again. The poor baby can barely breath!"

"The blanket is too small. I had trouble covering him," I explain still bent over the kettle. A few long wavy tendrils of black hair fall out of my bun and over my face. "If you will just allow me to use one of his other blankets…"

"My mother in law made this blanket and she's coming for dinner," Mrs. Sarrum huffed. "You will most certainly not use another!" She lifts the whining baby and holds him up to her face. "Poor Jeffrey, what did that incompetent girl do to you?"

I fume at her insults. She's sacrificing her child's comfort and wellbeing for sake of impressing her mother in law and I'm the one who's incompetent!

Jeffrey's cries soften to a gentle whimper as he lays his head against his mother's stiff white collar. She comments, "Those biscuits are taking far too long to bake. The fire is too low." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "You cannot bake in those dying embers. Put more wood on Morgana."

I had made the fire low for a reason but if she insists on eating burned food then so be it. Frowning, I straighten up and toss the locks of escaped hair behind the white collar that covered the shoulders of my dress. I tie on my bonnet and inform her promptly, "I'm going to fetch firewood."

I'm careful not to glance at the looking glass as I pass it. Whenever Mrs. Sarrum catches me toying with my hair or admiring myself even a little she berates me with the same words. "True beauty comes from deeds, not appearance."

I'm embarrassed every time she catches me looking at myself. She behaves as if she's peered inside my soul and found it flawed or unworthy. As a Puritan, Mrs. Sarrum endlessly lectures me about the virtue of modesty, "All righteous people are beautiful and the same in the eyes of the maker blah blah blah…"

For a group of folks seeking religious freedom they certainly have no problem cramming their views down the throats of others. I stroll outside in the crisp autumn air to gather logs. The hypocrisy of Sarrum and his frog face wife abandons my thoughts as I see a breathtaking man walking across the courtyard. He has to be the most striking man I've ever seen. He has beautiful ivory skin over a statuesque body. His eyes are so blue and captivating its as if I'm falling into the sky. Our eyes meet and lock together clear until he claims a seat at the picnic table. His impeccable lips part in a smile and then he turns to his boss, Governor Cenred. I hadn't even noticed I was holding my breath. How could just a passing glance, a chance encounter between strangers have left me breathless? If it wasn't for the heavy logs in my arms I could float away.

They continue to wait for Mr. Sarrum to meet with them and I can't help but wonder what they're here to talk about. Mrs. Sarrum walks out to see what's taking me so long with the firewood and immediately gasps as she catches me drooling over a gentleman.

She purses her paper thin lips, "A man like that would never take an interest in an unruly heathen Druid girl."

"You're right," I smirk. "Only men like your husband would."

She slaps me so hard my face is stinging. It takes me a while to see straight again, but it's worth it. At least this time I've given her a reason to strike me. When my ears stop ringing I hear his boss speak his name. That name will never leave me, _Percival..._

xXx

Governor Cenred is tall and handsome, with a stylish white wig beneath a commodore's hat. He nods to me once he sees me looking in their direction. I grow embarrassed and look away.

Percival reads Cenred's lips as the governor asks him, "Why are you being so difficult?"

Percival pulls a notepad and pencil from his pocket and writes, "You are wife shopping for me. This is very sad."

Governor Cenred laughs. "The only thing that's sad is the fact that you are an eighteen year old virgin. You should take notes from my oldest son. He's been tapping slave pussy since he was a teenager. I made certain of that. He grew up strong because I was tough on him. Now he's a deputy, an officer of the law." Cenred beams with pride.

Percival explains on paper, "None of the women on our estate will touch me. They believe I'll give them deaf babies, even though I wasn't born deaf and both my parents can hear. They think I'm a freak."

"I'm aware," Cenred says. "I would've forced one to marry you by now if it weren't for the fact that people have more children when they choose their own partners. I understand the dilemma you're in so I implore you to understand mine. Smallpox nearly extinguished white colonists. I'm under direct orders of the crown to see to it every able-bodied man above the age of fourteen takes a bride. So let's find a girl who doesn't mind that you're deaf, so you can breed some big strapping lads."

Percival sighs at the very thought of being bred like a horse. Then his eyes rise to meet mine once again. He watches me as I walk all the way to the porch.

Cenred nudges him. "It looks like we have a winner. I didn't know you liked the voluptuous ones. I pegged you for a man who lusted for bony girls. You haven't taken your eyes off of her since we arrived. She is a cute little thing isn't she?"

As Percival goes to object Cenred says, "Relax I'm just going to have a chat with her."

Cenred marches up to me and says, "I see you watching my servant over yonder. Would the fact that he's deaf and unable to speak offend you?"

I look up at him and answer, "No sir. Nothing about that man offends me."

He goes on to say, "So you'll be able to… to… work with him then."

"Yes Sir," I promptly assure him not understanding exactly what he means.

Cenred grins. "What can you do?"

Before I can open my mouth Mrs. Sarrum declares, "Morgana is a wonderful cook, nanny, and chambermaid."

Cenred questions her with one eyebrow cocked, "Why are you getting rid of her?"

Mrs. Sarrum whispers, "I caught my husband fornicating with our last cook. So I sold the little whore and got this unspectacular heathen girl. Now I see him eyeballing Morgana. From now on he's just going to have to deal with my cooking. No more female servants."

Cenred laughs and agrees to trade her a male servant for me.

xXx

I arrive at Governor Cenred's cotton plantation. It's like a village all its own. The work day is over. Upwards of two-hundred servants are gossiping and trading goods in the slave quarters. Dark skinned children are running amuck with homemade dolls and swords. They all stare as Percival walks me to the infirmary, wondering if I'm an octoroon (an eighth black) or simply po bukra (poor white person who is indentured or working for very little pay); the typical awkward first day.

Percival drops me off and quietly tips his hat to me. As he walks away I resist the urge to jump on his back and cling to him. He's the only person I'm familiar with and all we've shared is a brief introduction. How can one be surrounded by many and yet feel utterly alone?

I gather my nerve and enter the infirmary. The nurse who runs it is lovely with auburn hair streaked with gray.

The nurse introduces herself, "Welcome, everyone calls me Annis."

"I'm Morgana," I inform her as I take a seat on one of the beds.

We make small talk while Nurse Annis examines me. She happily says, "You seem like a nice girl. I'm glad Percival's finally found himself a wife. He really is a great young man."

"Wife what!" I exclaim.

Annis explains, "I can't believe no one told you. The main reason you were brought here is to have babies with Percival. You're due to be married on Sunday."

My mind races with apprehension.

I announce frantically, "I think he's good looking but I hardly know him! Our wedding is three days from now! I thought Governor Cenred was just asking me if I can work with Percival."

Annis laughs hysterically. "Master Cenred wants you to work with him alright. You're going to be working directly underneath Percival."

The nurse stops laughing when she notices how frightened I am. It's the first joke I can remember not laughing at. He's going to break me in, in three days. I'm not sure I'm ready.

She says, "You've never been with a man, have you?"

"No Ma'am," I admit with tears in my eyes.

The nurse takes my hand and assures me, "It may hurt a little at first, but it's not intolerable. Even then it's more so pressure than pain. Making love is something people enjoy doing. It's as natural as eating or breathing. You can sleep in the infirmary until your wedding night."

"Thank you. You're very kind," I tell her for taking the time to share her wisdom.

I lost my parents so early in life no one ever had this talk with me. Just knowing what to expect is a bit of a relief. The door creaks. A lovely woman walks in. She's beautiful with fair skin and long silvery blonde hair.

She hugs me and exclaims, "Well you are just as pretty as a picture. I'm Diane, Percival's mother. My husband is Deacon Edward but everyone calls him Deacon. He'll be residing over your wedding on Sunday."

The tears I've fought to hold back begin to fall.

Diane's face fills with concern. "What's wrong honey?"

Annis fills her in, "Morgana's just a little nervous because she and Percival just met."

Diane smiles brightly, takes me by the hands, and sits next to me.

Her hazel eyes light right up. "I remember feeling the same way when I first married Percival's father. I was only fifteen and he was twenty-five. We'd just met and I was scared. But there was something about that man. When you know, you know."

I hug her and gain a new confidence about my betrothal. I'll soon be blessed with a family, and that's something I haven't had in a while. Diane is the most positively, delightful, upbeat woman I ever met. She reminds me a lot of my own mother, who taught me to always smile and keep my head up. My mom and Diane would've gotten along great.

I tell Diane, "Thank you for welcoming me into your family."

Percival's father, Deacon is a large bear of a man. He has almost white blonde hair and a booming voice. He approaches his son as Percival sands away on a partially finished wedding band. He'd been carving it from wood.

Deacon says to his frustrated son, "He who finds a wife has found a great thing."

Percival signs with agitation, "Please spare me the sermon. I barely know this girl. I didn't find a wife. One was purchased for me."

"From what I hear she was purchased for you because you couldn't keep your eyes off of her. You chose that girl not Governor Cenred." Deacon assures his son, "Please remember that just because you have to get married don't mean you can't enjoy it. I was very nervous when I married your mother. I barely knew her but things worked out."

Percival's scowl gradually fades. _My father does truly love my mother. _

Deacon goes on to say, "Percival you should introduce Morgana to Arthur and Gwaine."

Percival laughs. "You want her to meet the rug rats? Are you trying to scare her off?"

"Son you've never been an indentured servant but I have at one point in my life," Deacon explains. "It's the worst feeling ever to end up in a strange place alone. You feel alienated."

Percival silently interjects, "Father I know exactly what it's like to feel alienated. I'm deaf remember. The boss had to travel abroad to find me a wife because no one would have me."

"Then you should know firsthand how important it is to show Morgana she's not alone," Deacon replies.

Percival nods and signs, "I'm not even sure what to say to her."

Deacon gives his son a proud slap on the shoulder. "When you go to measure Morgana for her ring this is what you tell her…"

xXx

Percival walks in with two small boys around five. They are absolutely adorable. They remind me of my own brother. He was just a little older than them when he died.

Diane says, "Come here boys. I want you to meet your new mother Morgana." Diane points to the dark-haired one and says, "This is Gwaine." Then she points to the light-haired one and says, "This is Arthur."

The boys chime, "Nice to meet you Miss Morgana."

"Morgs is fine," I tell the boys grinning from ear to ear. "And its very nice to meet you too,"

In a matter of hours I've gone from being totally alone to being a stepmom. It's impossible to hide my excitement. The children hug me and run off to play.

Percival signs to his mom, and she translates for me, "Gwaine and Arthur were orphaned after the smallpox epidemic. My son's been looking after them ever since."

I ask Diane, "How do I tell him he has beautiful children?"

She smiles and informs me, "You just did. He reads lips very well."

I look up at Percival. He smiles and mouths the words, "Thank you."

Then he signs to his mother, and Diane asks me, "Can you read Honey?"

They're both relieved when I nod yes. Many of the poor are illiterate.

Diane goes on to say, "Percival may have to write you until you pick up his sign language."

They both smile as I say, "I can't wait to learn."

Diane scolds her son, "What are you doing out here? You know you're not supposed to see her until the wedding."

Percival silently assures his mother with a few hand signals, "I just came out here to allow Morgana to meet the boys and measure her finger."

His mother relays the message, and he sits next to me on the bed. I extend my hand. My heart leaps as Percival takes it. The fact that it's trembling embarrasses me a little. He puts a string around my finger and cuts it to the appropriate length. The nurse gives us a coy smile and drags Percival's mother out of the infirmary.

Diane stops in the doorway. "I'm going to check on the boys. Don't worry I'll be keeping them Sunday night and any other night you kids need to be alone."

The nurse snatches Diane out by her arm, and the door swings shut. We both become embarrassed at his mother's not so subtle hint. Percival puts a hand over his face and then scribbles me a note. He passes it to me and places his soft warm lips on my cheek. Then he rises and walks toward the door. I read the note after he leaves.

_My Lovely Bride to be,_

_I know you're nervous and so am I. But just because we have to get married doesn't mean we can't enjoy it. If your heart is truly as warm as your beautiful smile we should do great together. I promise that as soon as I learn what makes you happy, I'll do everything in my power to keep you that way. Sweet Dreams._

_Your Fiancé, _

_Percy_

I lied down on the bed and held his note close to my heart. I've never had a lover and now I'm someone's fiancée. The feeling is fantastic but overwhelming. It took me forever to get to sleep. I wouldn't have slept at all if I'd known just how much danger I was truly in. The evil one was right under my nose just waiting for the right moment to strike; the right moment to end my life with impunity. Meeting Percy was the best thing to ever happen to me, but it was also _the beginning of the end…_


	10. For the Love of a Druid Woman: Part 2

**Description: Morgana, a convicted and condemned witch, continues to relay her tragic tale of love, passion, and religious persecution in the New World.**

For the Love of a Druid Woman: _Part 2 The Night Stalker _

As I rise on weak legs and unsteady feet blood surges to my cuffed hands with the sensation of a thousand stabbing knives. Tears spring to my eyes at the searing agony and I realize how unnatural it is to have ones hands shackled above one's head. From my standing position my wrists now fall at my sides where they should, and for the briefest of moments I find myself just wishing I could sleep standing up. I glance across the stone pit and try my best to force an encouraging smile for the man I've been imprisoned with, the gentleman I've been talking to all this time. The corner of my mouth quivers but no smile results and I give up and abandon the attempt.

He's been here longer than me, much longer, and he's been sentenced to burn on the stake next to mine. In the yellow orange light of the breaking dawn I can see that his hands are now swollen and purple. His fingers are like stiff sausages.

"Merlin," I call to my weak and delirious cellmate. "Your hands need circulation. Can you stand Merlin?"

He tries repeatedly but collapses like a house of cards and I burst into soft sobs. It isn't fair what's happened to him. All he did was use magic to save his wife. Her breached delivery was killing her and their baby. He used magic for love not evil. How can that be wrong?

Neither Merlin nor I remember what food tastes like. And the musket bearing guards only lower enough water into the pit to keep us clinging to life. They say we are fasting to cleanse our evil souls so that once our spirits are purged from our bodies by way of the flame we will be welcomed through the gates of heaven. The puritans can call it fasting, soul cleansing, or whatever helps them sleep at night but I'm going to call it what it is: torture, cold cruel inhumane torture. Merlin and I each have a bucket to relieve our functions and we look away out of respect for one another even if no one else has respect for us. Merlin hasn't risen to make water in a full day, and I worry that dehydration is falling upon him. I see him slipping out of consciousness and into what could very well be death.

My voice calls him back to the land of the living, "If you had it to do again what would you…"

Before I can finish my question his voice gains a strength I hadn't seen since the first day I was imprisoned with him, "I would save my wife. If that means I die in her stead then so be it. We have four children. They need their mother."

As I see him slipping away once more I promptly remind him, "Your children need their father too. Stay with me Merlin."

His chapped and broken lips quiver in what I think is the remnants of a smile, "Then talk to me Miss Morgana. If you want my company you'll have to give me hope. How did the son of a deacon grow to love a Druid woman?"

"In 30 wonderful nights," The smile I struggled for just minutes before warmed my face with ease at the thought of my beloved.

Merlin's eyes meet mine, blessing me with the quiet strength and undying support one would usually only attain from a lifelong friend. I take a deep breath and continue to relay my story…

I'm exhausted and I must report for duty. It's still dark outside, and I'm so sleepy my eyes are burning. I yawn repeatedly on the way to the big house. Now will be my first opportunity to dazzle my new Master. I can't help being nervous. I sigh as I pass the droves of field hands. In many ways I can relate to the African slaves. Like me they are people trying to survive in a strange New World and fighting to hold fast to a culture and identity that is being stripped away from them.

I enter the kitchen. It's small and cluttered with pots and pans. A girl of twelve or thirteen passes me a white apron and oven mitts. The girl has already retrieved a few pails of clean water for cooking and washing my hands.

I listen intently as the child informs me, "Your work day will be from 5am-5pm. Monday – Saturday. Anytime you work passed five or on Sundays you get paid for it. There's a break at 12pm. The chambermaids serve rations twice a day at 4am and 6pm. Since you're the head chef you can just eat the rich people's leftovers. When you see what everyone else eats you'll want to. It's alright to fish from the pond or hunt as long as it's not more than two acres away from the slave quarters. If you travel too far without a pass the overseers will assume you're running away." She smiles. "I'm glad you're here to replace me. I know I should've appreciated being brought in from the field, but I never see my pa and brother anymore."

"I understand. I lost my family when I was young," I assure her.

The girl gives me a brief tour of the kitchen, and tells me what time to prepare the master's meals. She shows me where the preserves are kept, and points me in the direction of the smoke house. Then she wishes me luck.

"I didn't catch your name," I call after her.

"Guinevere," She replies. "But everyone usually calls me Gwen."

"I'm Morgana," I smile gently. "It was nice to meet you Gwen."

She nods politely and makes her way to the fields.

A beautiful chambermaid walks in wearing a black and white house servant's dress. She's around twenty one years old and has very fair skin with a few freckles. She flips her long wavy sand colored hair and rambles off a food order with a nasty attitude.

Then she promptly informs me, "My name is Sophia and I'm the matriarch here. You will do what I say exactly as I say it. As long as you work in the house your ass belongs to me. Your position here is not guaranteed. If Governor Cenred and his sons don't thoroughly enjoy this meal you'll be picking cotton with the lowly field hands."

I roll my eyes and laugh in response to her sad concept of authority. She huffs and walks out the door. I load the old stove with wood, strike a match, and set it aflame. I tie on my apron, wash my hands, and begin to work my magic. I was born to cook. If it were possible I'd have my own restaurant. There's nothing like the smell of salty pork, and the sound of pancake batter sizzling in a skillet. As I prepare the dishes I can't help but wonder about that chambermaid. Her obvious resemblance to Governor Cenred is impossible to ignore. Sophia is either his bastard or that of his brother. Her family ties, though illegitimate, gain her the master's favor. Because of this she thinks she's better than other servants. The pompous bitch pokes her nose in the door.

"Order up!" I call to her.

I wait on pins and needles, hoping, praying. After a few minutes Sophia comes in with a disgruntled look on her face.

She beckons and snaps, "The Governor wishes a word with you."

Damn it! I knew I should've used a pinch less salt in the gravy.

I follow Sophia to the elegant dining hall. Master Cenred is without his ceremonial wig and now I can see that his shoulder length hair is very beautiful and dark. He is sitting with his sons. I'd met them both the day before when I first arrived. Deputy Mordred is the oldest with midnight curls and ice blue eyes. Lancelot is around my age with the same gorgeous dark hair and captivating appearance as the other men in his family but the difference lay in his eyes. Lancelot's big brown eyes are warm and open and loving. He seems out of place with this family of stern orderly men.

I let out a sigh of relief. They're all smiling, but I can't be too sure of myself. Some tyrants smile while reprimanding others because they find it amusing. Governor Cenred uses the remnants of a biscuit to wipe the gravy from his plate. After scarfing down the last bite he leans back in his chair and rubs his toned belly, "That was the best meal I've ever had. The gravy was perfect."

Whew, thank god. I've heard nothing good about the cotton field.

Deputy Mordred and Lancelot shower me with compliments of their own. I modestly thank them. Sophia huffs in frustration.

Master Cenred gives a hearty laugh. "If you're as good in the sack as you are in the kitchen Percival's a very lucky man."

I chuckle at his inappropriate joke, even though the thought of making love still scares me a little.

The smile fades from Deputy Mordred's face. He snaps at his father, "You brought her here to marry that freak?!" He turns to me. "I feel sorry for you sweetheart. You didn't exactly get the pick of the litter. No other woman will touch Percival."

"Then I shall be a very happy bride," I joke with a smile.

Governor Cenred and Lancelot laugh, but Mordred grows angry. He storms from the dining hall with his breakfast half finished. What on earth did my betrothed ever do to him?

xXx

_Just a Glimpse_

I had been hoping for just a glimpse of Percival, but hadn't been so lucky. It's almost noon and I haven't seen him all day. I reach for my oven mitts when I'm certain tonight's desert is done. German chocolate cake is my specialty.

"Owe!"

I've been poked by something sharp. My finger is bleeding. I suck my sore digit and shake my left mitt out on the stove. My heart rejoices when I find a red rose and a blood stained love note, asking me to meet him for break. I smell the rose and kiss the love letter. I flip over a shiny pot and glance at my reflection. I look a total mess. I quickly fix my hair and dash out the door. I see my predecessor on the way to the pond.

I ask her, "Why didn't you warn me about that awful Sophia girl?"

"I never had a problem with her. In fact you're the only one I've ever seen her be rude to." Gwen runs off to be with children her age while I ponder what the hell I could have done to Sophia.

I venture forward. Percival is alone at the pond. My heart jumps into my throat. I assumed the children would be with him. That would've made this meeting a lot less awkward. Since we're alone it's no longer a meeting. It's a date. Percival meets me half way. He smiles and relieves me of the plentiful basket of goodies I smuggled from the kitchen. He puts an arm around me, and walks me to the beautiful shimmering pond.

As I set out the smorgasbord of finger sandwiches and fresh fruit I ask, "Where are Arthur and Gwaine? I brought enough for all of us. I figured it would be a vacation from the gruel they serve us at ration time."

Percival pulls out a pad of paper and writes, "The boys are following Gwen around like lost puppies. Well… Gwaine's just tagging along to make fun of Arthur. I'm starting to think Arthur may have his first crush."

I fawn over how adorable that notion is. Percival nods in agreement and writes another note, "It was very thoughtful of you to bring us treats. The ration food is awful."

"It was nothing," I assure him, but I can't help but admit to him. "I assumed Sophia was just another bossy matriarch. But I found out that's not the case. I have no clue what I've done to offend her."

Percival smiles. His note reads, "Don't mind Sophia. She's just jealous because you're so much more beautiful than she is."

"Thank you. But I just don't see this total knock out that you do," I promptly inform him.

He quickly scribbles, "Then you're not looking very hard. I want to start this marriage out right. So I'll put everything out in the open. Sophia and I use to have a thing. But she would only be with me in secret, like she was ashamed of me or something. I grew tired of her and broke it off long ago. Morgana you were right in assuming she's an arrogant Matriarch. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I'm so ashamed I've never had a courtship I almost want to make one up, but I go with the truth. "As pathetic as it sounds. I've never been in a relationship."

He writes, "I'm a deacon's kid. I find your innocence endearing not pathetic. I'm a virgin too."

I tell him in utter disbelief, "You're so good looking. You mean to tell me you and Sophia never…"

He shakes his head no. "She wasn't the one, and I don't believe in sex before marriage. By the way thank you for the compliment."

He gasps as he notices the bandage on my finger. He asks with concern, "Did you burn yourself in the kitchen?"

"No I pricked my finger on a thorn from the rose." I inform him.

He kisses my finger and my body bursts into tingles. He scribbles with disappointment, "I'm sorry. I was trying to be romantic."

I touch his handsome face, "I could've lost a finger and what you did would've still been incredibly romantic. I would've rejoiced and met you for break with nine fingers."

He laughs and it's nice to see he enjoys my since of humor. Most find my witty sarcastic nature to be an irritation. I was never silent enough for the men at Sarrum's estate. They found me unruly and a bit headstrong.

As Percival and I sit by the beautiful shimmering pond his strong warm hands envelope mine like a pleasant cocoon and for the first time in my life I feel like I'm in just the right place at just the right time. Once more I begin my descent into the gorgeous cerulean orbs that are his eyes. He has bewitched me. I am prisoner to that captivating gaze of his and he leans in for what I can only hope is a kiss, what I am praying is a kiss. My heart races with anticipation of the moment our lips will meet. My breathing shallows and my body shudders with an invitation and acceptance of whatever is to come. His thumbs delicately caress the backs of my hands and I feel my eyes drifting shut with total trust of a man who only yesterday was a complete stranger to me. My heart races and slows puttering in and out of rhythm at the feel of his sweet warm breath upon my face and without a command from my brain my body reacts and my lips purse into a pucker. But our moment didn't come. I jump back as Deacon clears his throat and wags his finger disapprovingly.

Percival gives a coy shrug and his father scolds him, "This young lady is not yet yours to be kissing. Show her respect."

Percy lets out an exasperated breath. He doesn't attempt to hide his annoyance.

Deacon beckons me. "Come so my wife can teach you sign language."

I do as I'm told. Deacon is a nice man but I can tell he doesn't tolerate nonsense. He reminds me a lot of my own father, Gorlois. They would've gotten along great. I glance back at my angry fiancé and do an imitation of his father. I put on a serious face, swell up my chest and flex my muscles. Percival snickers. I quickly pull myself together before Deacon catches me mocking him and pounds me on the crown of my head with a closed fist like an angry gorilla.

xXx

_Cake & other Sweet Things_

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of my work day, I pack up the leftover cake. I leave the big house and stop by the infirmary.

I ask the nurse "Is it alright if I turn in a little later tonight?"

"Are you sneaking off to see Percival young lady?" She asks me sternly.

She caught me off guard. I stammer, "Well you see uh…"

Nurse Annis grins. "If you leave me a slice of that cake I'll cover for you."

"Thank you so much." I give her a large piece.

I creep out of the infirmary and across the slave quarters. I tap on Percy's door and Arthur answers.

"I brought you guys some cake," I announce as I walk inside.

The children rejoice. The cabin is beautifully crafted and cozy. Next to Sophia's it's the nicest one on the property. Most everyone else lives in a hobble with a dirt floor. But like any bachelor pad it's a little messy, and smells kind of weird. Toys and clothes are strewn about. Percival frantically cleans up the clutter. He's so cute when he's uncomfortable.

I snicker. "You have a beautiful home."

Percival makes a few hand gestures that Arthur translates, "Uncle Percy says thank you. He built it his self after Gwaine and I came here. He left grandma and grandpa's house to build this place so we could have more space."

Gwaine adds, "Uncle Percy's a carpenter. He builds a lot of things and me and Arthur help."

"You're all very talented," I assure the children.

"Thank you. Sorry the house is a mess Auntie Morgs," The boys reply as they help Percival tidy up.

"No I'm sorry. I shouldn't have popped up unannounced. I should probably leave." I reach for the doorknob.

Percival gently takes my hand and my heart rears up like a neighing horse. He smiles and shakes his head no.

Percival signs away and Arthur translates, "Uncle says this is your home too. You're always welcome here."

I smile and fix everyone a slice of cake on simple wooden saucers. Not the fine china of Cenred's dining table but we give thanks to the creator for what we have, thanks for this wonderful moment. For the first time I'm sitting at the table with my new family. The children devour their deserts and Percival isn't taking time with his.

Percy signs and Gwaine translates, "Uncle Percy says it's really good. He's never had it before."

"German chocolate" I ask the children.

"No cake," Arthur answers.

That's poverty first hand. One could go an entire lifetime without enjoying the simplest of life's pleasures, like cake. I can't wait to show off the little bit of sign language I've learned. I silently thank Percival with my hands. He gives me an impressed nod and a smile.

Then I ask the children, "Have you two ever had cake before?"

Gwaine answers, "Yeah once but it wasn't as good as this. When the bad man brought Arthur and me home from the orphanage he gave us cake and milk."

"Who's the bad man?" I ask.

Arthur says, "Deputy Mordred. He's always yelling and lashing people."

Percival snickers a little. We play cards with the children until their bedtime. After putting Gwaine and Arthur to bed I get that same awkward feeling of being on a date.

I smile bashfully. "It's getting late I should probably get some sleep."

We stroll to the infirmary hand in hand. I can tell he's taken the absolute longest route to get there, but I don't mind. I never want this walk to end. As we approach the door I feel a little sad. The next two days will be the longest days of my life. Percival is so sweet and handsome. I can't wait to marry him. Diane is right. When you know, you know.

I solemnly sign another new word I've learned, "Goodnight."

Without warning Percival takes me in his powerful arms and lays the most phenomenal kiss on me. This kiss is so passionate and beautiful that even the angels in the heavens above turn away in envy. I melt against the hard plains of his body and my knees go weak. He releases me and I wobble breathless and dizzy until his strong hands brace my shoulders to steady me.

"Are you alright?" he mouths silently.

I nod with a lazy grin and lidded eyes as my pounding heart fights to regain its temperance. He scribbles a note and passes it to me. My heart smiles as I read it.

_I meant no disrespect but we shouldn't have to share our first kiss in front of everyone. It should be kept between the two of us because it's sacred. I figured I'd lead the first kiss since you're going to have to lead our first dance. I know it's proper for me to lead. I apologize for my inability to, but I won't be able to hear the music._

My brows furrow in confusion, "I don't understand. The puritan religion strictly forbids music and instruments of any kind. We don't even have organs in church. We sing the hymns acapella."

He explains on paper, "Cenred allows a great many things on his estate that do not concur with puritan teachings: music, fornication, and booze just to name a few."

I assure Percy, "It's no problem at all for me to lead that dance. But don't ever apologize for kissing me. You should do it whenever you want."

He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully and with a naughty grin and he writes. "You'd never get any sleep if I did."

"Then I shall never slumber," I vow and boldly place my lips upon his.

He wraps his arms around me and dances gracefully within my mouth, a warm tingle sweeping over my body at the unfamiliar sensation of his tongue massaging mine. It's a long enticing kiss, but not long enough. He'd never be able to kiss me long enough. We reluctantly bid farewell, and I watch him walk away. The moment he believes he's disappeared from my sight he leaps three feet high and pumps his fist in the air. I swallow a giggle until I realize he can't hear me anyway and then I allow my laughter to roll out.

xXx

_30 Wonderful Nights_

Our wedding reception smells of jasmine, roasting beef, and liquor distilled from corn and potato husks. The slaves are playing banjos, harmonicas, fiddles, and drums. The music is fast and rhythmic. I requested our wedding be held in the orchard, opposed to the church, and Percy was agreeable. Every colonist in the village showed up with the exception of the Sarrums who I refused to extend an invitation to. Most of the slaves and puritan guests are smiling, laughing, dancing, and bearing homemade gifts. A few of the elders are tissing and shaking their heads disapprovingly about the devilish acts of listening to music and dancing at a wedding. But they blame the eccentric Governor for that. They see Percy and me as innocents and wish us all the happiness in the world. No one is staring judgmentally at us. We may not be perfect but we're perfect for each other. Percival picks me up and swings me around as we dance well into the evening. He doesn't have to tell me how happy he is. I can see it, feel it and I feel the same exact way. The very night I feared turned out to be the best night of my life. The music ceases. My smile fades.

Sophia makes an announcement, "Please put your hands together and clear the floor for the father/daughter dance."

Everyone applauds and clears the floor. They form a large ellipse around me. Hundreds of people are staring, and I have no father to dance with. My eyes fill with tears as I am cruelly forced to remember my daddy's death. Sophia stands there, clapping with an arrogant smirk on her face. Percy storms off to give her a firm talking to. As a myriad of eyes fix on me and the crowd bursts into hushed whispers, I never feel so alone in my life. I'm humiliated. I turn to flee.

Deacon takes my hand with a smile. "May I have this dance?"

I stand on my tiptoes and give my father in law a big hug. The musicians slow the music for us, and we begin to sway.

Deacon whispers to me as I rest my head on his massive chest, "I know you miss your Pa. I'm sorry he couldn't be here, but sometimes family becomes those you live with."

I smile and thank him. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Percival fighting with Sophia. I grow a little jealous. She can communicate with my husband far better than me. She knows so much sign language. He doesn't have to read her lips at all. She signs right along with him the entire time. They must've been together quite a while. Before long Percival walks over to me and silently asks to cut in. Everyone joins us on the floor, even the crotchety staunch elders. Deacon walks over to dance with the lovely Diane. Percy gives me a new hand signal I've just learned. I recognize it from the first night I snuck off to be with him.

"I'm sorry."

I assure him, "It's alright."

Percy pulls me close and kisses me in front of everyone and the guests burst into applause. The women gush and whisper sweet things, wishing us a long and happy union with lots of babies. The men cheer Percy on wishing us a long and happy wedding night. It's a little embarrassing to even think about but I feel like a princess as our bodies move as one under the stars. Sophia watches us for a moment before her eyes begin to water. She sniffles lightly, heaves breathlessly, and buries her crying face in her hands. Sophia runs away with tears streaming down her cheeks. I feel sorrow for her rather than anger. Her childish pride caused her to lose a really great man. I'll never take him for granted.

After a few more songs the guests begin to disperse. It's well after midnight. Everyone but Percival and I have to work in the morning. Governor Cenred grants all newlyweds the day off after their wedding to encourage coupling. We walk to our home hand in hand. He sweeps me up in his arms with no effort as if I'm made of butterflies. With a sweet peck on my temple he carries me over the threshold. We both laugh as he lays me on the bed. We're a little buzzed off homemade hooch. He kisses me deeply, caresses my body, and gently places himself upon me. I can feel his manhood pressed against me. It's now apparent that making love to Percy is going to hurt. I become so scared I'm shaking. I feel dirty, like I'm doing something wrong. He stops.

"I'm sorry," I tell him.

He writes me a note, "It's alright, I'm nervous too. We can wait until we know one another better. There's no rush."

"Can you give me a couple of weeks?" I ask.

He grins, "How about a month? Believe the deacon's kid when I say. Knowing we're not supposed to will do nothing but make us want to."

We both laugh.

"Thank you," I speak sincerely. "You're really sweet."

Percival writes with concern in his eyes, "I'm nervous about it because I'm inexperienced and I'm afraid I haven't known you long enough to please you. But something completely different is bothering you. I can feel it in my heart. You're troubled. Why are you afraid to give yourself to me?"

I look away as my eyes begin to water. Percy gently caresses my cheek and lifts my chin until my eyes meet his. I take a deep breath and prepare to tell him the horrible thing that happened to me.

I confess with tears running down my cheeks, "Mr. Sarrum didn't force himself on me, but he would make me do other stuff."

Percival rubs my back, urges me to continue.

"Sometimes he would make me rub his thing with my hand," I explain. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the other day. I just felt so ashamed. The truth is anything other than kissing makes me feel filthy because I'm a whore."

He shakes his head no adamantly and hugs me so tightly. He wipes my tears with his handkerchief. I can feel how angry he is over what happened to me. He doesn't have to say it. Knowing how much Percy cares comforts me.

Once I calm down he writes, "Your last master was a sick bastard. What that pervert did was not your fault. You don't have to fear me. A month from now I will take your body gently, with absolute love and tenderness. I'll call you my wife and tell you I love you. There will be nothing filthy or perverted about what we do. It's gonna be biblical."

I smile through my tears, "Biblical huh?"

He laughs and mouths the word, "Biblical."

Percy scribbles on a sheet of paper, "My parents agreed to keep the boys all week. The house feels so empty without them. I kind of miss the rug rats. Is it alright if we go get them tomorrow?"

"I'll do you one better, how about tonight?" I offer.

We make it to Deacon's home in no time. Diane answers the door yawning. "What are you two doing here?"

"We came to pick up the boys," I answer.

We walk in. They're sleeping on a pallid. I grab Arthur. Percival grabs Gwaine. They both whined a little but didn't wake up. As we carry the children home, Percy glances over and gives me an appreciative nod.

I assure him, "They're my boys too."

Percy shifts Gwaine's small sleepy body to rest upon the other massive shoulder. And then Percival kisses me, a short but loving press of his lips to mine. Our family may not be traditional but it's ours.

We return home and put the boys to bed. Percival turns away as I change into a nightgown. I smile thoughtfully as I look at him not looking at me. He's so respectful. He's both mature and secure enough to admit when he's nervous or afraid. No other man would've ever been that honest. I'm more than lucky. I'm divinely favored. I climb into bed and beckon him. I look away as he undresses. I'm so curious it's difficult not to steal a peak, so I do and holy mother of Christ I love what I see. He joins me wearing nothing but a soft thin pair of pants. Percy holds me close and kisses me goodnight. I fall asleep in his arms wondering why god loves me so much. I've never felt so blessed.

My eyes pop open at the eerie feeling of being watched. I sit straight up in bed. My eyes snap to the bedroom window in time to catch a fleeing figure melt away in the shadows. Percy is awake now.

"Are you alright," He mouths silently.

I assure him that I am, "Everyone in town knows we're newlyweds. It was probably just a curious adolescent who yearned to know what sex is like."

Percy sweeps a hand in front of his own face and then his palms face upward in question.

I shrug, "I didn't see his face, just a mop of raven black curls."

Percival climbs out of bed and draws the drapes shut. We nestle together and drift back to sleep, naively dismissing the _Night Stalker_ as an innocent curious child. Hind sight is truly as clear as a mountain stream. I was entirely unaware of the imminent danger I was in…

* * *

I glance up at the sound of Merlin coughing uncontrollably, a harking rattly wet cough; and his once pink lips are growing bluer by the hour: all signs of end stage pneumonia.

"Merlin!" I cry out as he gasps and wheezes.

"It feels like my chest is in a vice grip. I just want this to be over."

"You can't think like that Merlin! We must cling to hope."

"Then give me hope to cling to milady," He speaks faintly.

"I don't know what to do," tears trickle down my cheeks.

Merlin's red rimmed eyes glint a little in wonder, "Just talk to me kind lady. Bless me with the comfort of a woman's voice."

I nod and wipe my tears. There was still so much to say. So many secrets to uncover...


	11. For the Love of a Druid Woman: Part 3

**Description: Morgana grows feelings of love and longing despite the fact that her marriage was arranged. All the while the bane of her existence is plotting against her. With her husband taken into custody can Merlin help her discover the power within to save herself?**

For the Love of a Druid Woman: _Part 3 Cruel Intentions_

There was still so much to say. So many secrets to uncover. Merlin, clinging to life, insisted upon knowing them all. My words were his only comfort in this drab, cold, stinking, pit of death so I continued. I ignored the roar of my starving belly, tuned out the pounding of my head, and continued…

My body is so programmed to being waked up at such an ungodly hour that sleeping in is rousing at 6am. I think naughty things as I feel him against me. I nestle up closer but Percy becomes embarrassed and backs away.

I turn to face him. "Get back over here. It's not the first time I felt it."

His eyes widen with surprise as if to ask me what I mean.

I answer his silent question, "I felt you when we were dancing last night at the reception, and again before we decided not to make love."

Percy rolled over and wrote, "I'm sorry. It gets hard to ignore your beauty, and I'm always like this in the morning."

I pull him close. "Don't apologize. I was scared at first, but I'm starting to like it. It makes me feel pretty, like you desire me."

He gives me a lustful grin, places his strong body on top of mine, and pins my hips to the bed with his own; his hardness rubs against my unmentionables and I stifle a wanton moan. His mouth claims mine almost possessively and I blissfully surrender to his will. He lay on top of me, kissing me for quite some time. But it wasn't long enough. Percy would never be able to kiss me long enough.

The noise of a crowing rooster wakes one of the boys and I can hear the other cry out and whimper after being struck with something. Percy and I break our kiss with a burst of laughter and we sit up on the bed. I notice the unfamiliar slickness and warmth between my legs and I pray to the creator this is a normal reaction to being in the embrace of one's husband.

The boys run in and start jumping on our bed. Inquiring with glee as to what we were doing today.

We decide to use our designated day off to take the boys fishing at the pond. Percival usually fished with them every Sunday. They missed their weekly outing due to our wedding. We had so much fun at the pond, even caught a few fish. Percy cleaned them, and I filleted and fried them. No ration gruel for us tonight. It's our first dinner as a family.

We fish with the boys every Sunday over the next few weeks. They're the light of my life but truly a handful. Arthur is always shooting people with his slingshot, and Gwaine is always daring him to. I was relieved that Percival and the boys didn't find my moving in to be an intrusion. I keep the house clean. Now it always smells of fresh flowers. They appreciate that. I meet Percy at the pond everyday at noon. I've learned a lot more sign language. He almost never has to write notes anymore.

This particular afternoon Percy weighs so heavily on my thoughts that I decide to make my trip to the market early. I need a break from my kitchen duties before my inability to pay attention causes me to cut or burn myself. Percy didn't meet me at the pond for break and I can't help but wonder where he is. I close the door behind me shielding my eyes with one hand from the bright afternoon sunlight. I make my way past the chickens pecking the dirt and turn up the path that leads into the village. It feels good to be out of the dark kitchen for a spell, away from the heat of the cooking hearth, away from my chores and the watchful eyes of Sophia.

Walking quickly, my long skirt trails over the dirt as I pass the Gaius house. The glass for their windows has not yet arrived from England and the holes are boarded up for now. But once the lofty manor is finished it will be one to be rivaled. Dr. Gaius is bent over his herbal garden as usual and doesn't look up. He's another one who makes waves with his talk of physicians washing their hands regularly and sterilizing their tools. Most think he's crazy and that's the very reason I'd trust him with my life. Every great mind in history was mocked until proven right.

At the meeting house I see Percy up on the roof attaching a brass weather vein above the chimney. My worry melts away as I see why he couldn't meet me for lunch. He'd been called to work off the estate. He tips his hat to me with that smile of his that chokes the very breath from my lungs and makes me melt into a puddle. Thoughts of his hands exploring my body infect my mind like a venom and I blush as red as a rose.

"Oh!" I cry as I stumble over a pink pig spotted with black.

I go sprawling onto the hard ground. The pig grunts a loud protest and scrambles off the path. I pick myself up and brush the dust off the front of my white apron. Straightening my cap, I take off briskly at the sight of Percival descending the ladder to check on me. How humiliating! I quickly dodge him. And peer around a corner as he glances back and forth. He eventually gives up and returns to work. I breathe a sigh of relief and carry on. That will teach me to have improper thoughts. But how can any thought about Percy be filthy or improper?

I see Deacon standing at his anvil in front of his shop, pounding noisily on a sheet of tin. I grin at him and he nods politely. His little apprentices, Arthur and Gwaine, are standing on a platform tending to the bellows. I wave but the boys are so excited to be helping the kindly man they consider a grandpa that they don't even look up. I'll stop by on my way back to check on them and bring them all a treat from the market.

Behind the blacksmith's forge are shimmering cottonwoods. Tall poplars and beech trees lean toward the village. Behind these the woods becomes dark with pines, oaks and maples. The village lumberman's woodpile stands at the edge of the forest, logs neatly chopped and stacked. But my eyes are focuses on the woods. As a child of nature the untamed wilderness calls to me like a siren. Sunlight filters down through the shimmering leaves, sending rays of illumination darting over the ground. Black and gold monarch butterflies flutter in and out of the shafts of white light.

Just a short walk, I decide. I stroll through the forest, dry twigs cracking beneath my heavy shoes. As soon as I'm hidden by the trees I pull my bonnet off and shake my hair free. I walk slowly raising my face to the rays of bright sunlight. My dress catches on a low bramble and I tug it free and keep walking. A scrambling sound nearby makes me spin around just in time to see a brown and white chipmunk scurry under a pile of dead leaves. I toss my long hair back and take a deep breath. The air smells piney and sweet. I'm not supposed to enjoy the woods. The witches of the villages allegedly come here to dance their evil dances in the moonlight with the devil and his minions. But to me this place is pure paradise.

As I turn a strong hand grabs me from behind. I break free with wide frightened eyes. Its just my Percy. His dark breeches stop just below the knee and gray wool stockings covered his lower legs. On his feet are Dutch style clogs, fashioned of shiny dark leather. It seems his whole wardrobe is composed of buckles. A buckle on his tall black hat, a large buckle to fasten the belt wrapped around the waist of his doublet shirt, and a buckle on the front of each of his shoes. I yearn to unlatch every buckle to get to every part of this man.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," He signs. "I saw you fall and…"

I assure him with a grin and a few waves of my hands, "I'm alright, just feeling a little stupid. That's all."

He waves off the incident and places his big warm hands at my waist. He lowers his face to meet mine in a kiss. The hat tumbles off his head as he presses his lips against mine, urgently, hungrily. And I give him as good as I'm getting. When we at last come up for air I tease my gentle giant between heavy breaths, "Being here alone together in the woods is a crime against village custom."

He picks up his hat from the ground and then writes me a note for old time sake. "Being anywhere with you is no crime."

"And why is that," I sign, teasing like a vixen."

I take his hat so he can better use his hands to talk to me… Or for other purposes if he so chooses. He hesitates, gazing at me as if trying to see inside my head, as if trying to read my very thoughts. Finally he signs, "Being here with you is no crime because we love each other." When my eyes fill with tears he's unsure of how to take this and immediately amends his statement, "Or rather I love you Morgana."

He reads my lips as I say, "Percival, you had it right the first time."

Before we know it we're kissing again. His very large but gentle hand closes around my clothed breast and I moan into his mouth. My nipple perks beneath the veil of my dress and I hope this too is a natural reaction. Percy seems to like it. He deepens the kiss and rubs his fingertip over the taunt peak of my breast. I gasp with desire, my hands sprawling about his broad manly back. His kiss shortens my breath renders me senseless and I realize I could spend forever in his arms…

xXx

_The Last Dance_

Later that night Percival rides to Blue Valley with all haste. He gallops on his steed as if his life depends on it, but in all actuality it is my life that's on the line. I'd taken off after being awakened by a nightmare. Rather than disturbing Percy's sleep I attended a powwow with the native indigenous people. My beliefs are very different from my husband's and rather than passing judgment upon me Percy encourages me to spend time with the neighboring Indians. He feels I would be happier and feel less alone because they are children of the earth like me. He's right. I've made many friends among the Wampanoag tribe. Their beliefs aren't very different from my own. They respect mother earth and the spirit world and they give thanks for the harvest through dance and music just as I was raised to do as a Druid.

Though the Puritans have an alliance with the Wampanoag, my village elders still believe that many of the Indian ceremonies and traditions are satanic. No colonist is allowed to meet with indigenous people without a chaperon and prior authorization. Tonight Percy received horrifying news that two Druid women had been hanged in the next village over. He found these killings senseless and just plain sad. He couldn't imagine such a tragic fate falling upon his own wife. He came to find me right away, to take me home, to protect me.

He spots the torch lights glowing high in the mountainside. He places the worn scope to his eye, captivated by the beautiful stone labyrinth of interconnecting structures that compose the Indian cliff dwellings. An entire city had been built into the mountain side with a spacious common area for ceremonies and powwows. He dismounts his horse and with his lantern out in front of him he starts up the winding path to the enchanting metropolis above. He cannot hear the music but he can feel the strong rhythm of the drums resonating through his body.

The warm sunny afternoon, has transformed into a cool pleasant evening. Music and firelight blares from the bustling cliff village; disturbing the calm silent night. The gathering is huge tonight, bigger than it has ever been before. It's crawling with women and men chanting in their native tongue and praising the creator, their deep copper skin given even greater beauty by colorful paints, feathers and beads festooning their charcoal windswept locks. Some are pounding drums and playing sweet wind instruments, while others are dancing with such grace their movements look like art in motion.

I dance freely oblivious to my husband's eyes, bending at the waist and flinging my hair back through the air, my bare feet adorned with painted symbolism twirling my scantily clad body around and around. I move my arms and hands in fluid motions allowing the wind and the music to carry my earthly being. I am one with the universe, one with the creator, and in this single perfect moment I am free.

I glance up to find my Percy. His eyes are bulged in shock. I'm not supposed to show my hair in public, let alone my back and belly and thighs. On this night my shirt is just a patch of brown leather no bigger than a doily tied about my neck and torso by strings. My frayed brown skirt barely reaches mid-thigh and my exposed flesh is decorated with the markings of my heritage.

He signs to me with urgency, "We have to leave now! And you must never return."

I might have panicked at Percival's expression but I had earlier participated in the passing of the peace pipe, and right now I am feeling pretty darn peaceful, "If I am to never return can you not give me one dance?"

Though slightly uncomfortable with the concept Percy humbly removes his buckled shoes and thick wool socks, knowing that this rock is sacred ground to the Wampanoag. He yearns not to offend but to gain a greater understanding and mutual respect of them and of me as well. If only more Puritans were like my husband the New World would be a utopia. This show of understanding makes me love him all the more, makes my body yearn for his touch all the more. I wind my thinly veiled hips from side to side and beckon him to the floor with little more than the simmer in my eyes and a gentle lick of my lips. He smiles shyly and begins his journey like a moth to the flame, his glorious vision snapping in and out of veiw as tribal persons whirl and interweave all around us in ritual dance. As I meet Percy my fingers immediately unhook the belt over his doublet.

His eyes innocently ask me why and I answer his silent question with a grin, "Do you see any other man here with a shirt on?"

He chuckles and nimbly unbuttons his heavy over shirt. I pull the thick material off of his broad shoulders and fling it somewhere unimportant. I can tell he feels naked standing on bare feet in just knee breeches and the thin white tunic he wears beneath his doublet. His cheeks flush a little as the Indian women look upon him and he quickly takes my hand to dance.

I inform him half flirtatiously, "You are still overdressed my love. We mustn't offend."

Percy draws in a sharp breath at the feel of my fingertips creeping beneath the thin veil of his undershirt. He closes his eyes and slows his breathing as I undress him right in the middle of the powwow. Now he is fully blushing as he stands bare chested, in just his breeches.

He signs with a hue of embarrassment, "I am naked Morgana."

"You are free Percival," I sign back.

He smiles gently and we fall into rhythm with the music. The drums are heavy enough for him to feel vibrations, so he happily leads this dance. We mimic the graceful Indians for a while and then fall into a rhythm of our own. My eyes drift shut as he lifts me by the waist. My legs wrap around his middle, my creamy white thighs flexing against the hard muscles of his sides. He joyfully begins to spin us around and I put total trust in him. My arms spread out like the wings of an eagle. My spine arches back along with my head and my face looks up toward the heavens. I feel as if I am flying in my husband's arms as he whirls us around and around. The powwow becomes a beautiful blur of firelight and smiling faces until the world disappears and all that remains is me and my Percy. I am once again bewitched by this man. Then he draws my torso forward as he slows from our spin. My shirted breasts pressing the bare skin of his chest as his glorious tongue trails up my neck over the small bump of my chin and into my mouth. My thighs clench tighter around his torso as I feverishly suck on his tongue, causing him to groan in lust and ecstasy. As he lowers me to the floor I slide down the front of his sweat slick body. He breathes sharply when I brush over his erection.

"We should go," He signs with labored breaths. "Before I take you into one of these stone rooms and do disrespectful things to your body. Things we'll both be ashamed of later."

I giggle a little curious to know exactly what he would do. Out of fear of being too forward I simply sign, "As you wish my love."

My cheeks grow a little red as I notice that peculiar wetness returning to my nether regions. Being raised by staunch Christians can make it difficult and even a little embarrassing to fully understand one's body. We bid farewell to our Wampanoag friends who were kind enough to gather our Puritan shoes and clothing into one sack. Percy and I hike down the cliff with the bag tossed over his mighty shoulder and I find myself envying those lifeless threads to be blessed with such an honor. We start through the valley holding hands as we walk.

As we reach the stallion he tied to a tree I reach for the long heavy dress I walked here in. Percy denies me. "Let us be free for just a little longer," He silently pleas and I oblige him.

Percy assists me onto the horse and climbs on behind me. Surprisingly he passes me the reigns trusting me completely. For some reason unknown to even me I untie my leather top and allow it to fly away in the midnight wind. I pull my long hair forward to veil my exposed breasts. I can't see Percival's expression behind me but I feel his stomach muscles contract and his hands tighten around my arms. I shudder at the feel of his lips gingerly grazing the back of my neck and his crotch mimics the reaction it always has first thing in the morning.

There is something so erotic about the two of us being so naked under the stars with all of nature as our witness. With his nude chest to the bare flesh of my back his powerful hands slide down my arms and close over my hands. He guides me to whip the stirrups and we take off through the valley like lightening. We feel the wind all over our bodies, caressing our naked skin. I feel his hands upon the sensitive skin of my breasts, kneading the soft tissue as we ride. My nipples rise to a stiff peak and I quiver with desire. He is kissing my neck and caressing every part of my body he can reach, putting full trust in me to control the horse and not get us thrown to our deaths. The slickness pools between my legs, a crucial combination of the vibrating saddle and my husband's erotic touching. My body explodes in the most amazing sensation: a small climax. As I tremble breathlessly in Percy's arms I can feel him grinning impishly against the bend of my neck.

I ease back on the reigns until the animal stops and I don't need to tell Percy why. He leaps down and pulls me into his arms, lays my nearly nude body in the meadow. The tall grass and flowers hiding our forms as he pulls off the small undergarments beneath my short skirt. I boldly unbutton his britches and hook my thumbs in the waist band as he kneels over me on all fours. I pull his pants and underwear down to rest upon his thighs and he lowers his strong body upon me. I feel his hardness, his lust for me as we kiss and caress and touch one another in the moonlight. I need him inside of me loving me stroking me and I do not care if it will hurt. I don't give a damn if anyone sees us. He's my husband and I'm his wife this feels so beautiful as the smooth head of his desire presses against my slippery threshold.

But he stops. Sits back on his feet and signs, "Go home Morgana. Leave right now."

"It's alright. I'm not afraid anymore," I sign back. "I want to make love."

"I do to," His eyes pain with need as he speaks with his hands. "But I made you a promise and we still have a few more days. Take my horse and leave Love. I'll meet you at home after I've taken a nice cold dip in the lake."

I'm so enamored it's almost painful to leave. I dress myself and do as I'm asked because I know Percival will be crushed by remorse if he breaks a promise to me. I kiss his lips ever sweetly and say with a smile, "Thank you for the dance."

He smiles back and helps me onto the horse. He kisses the back of my hand sending tingles up my arm and then gives the steed a smack on the rear. The horse begins to trot away with me and I watch my beloved shrink into the distance. It's a perfect night, or at least I believe so until I look to the far east of Percy. I spot a lone figure in the valley. I raise Percival's scope to my eye hoping to see a deer but its Mordred in the meadow. Why had he followed us? Why is he clutching the leather top I abandoned? And the most eerie question of all is, why does he have that evil smile upon his face? My blood turns to icy needles as I realize the mop of black curls fleeing my window that night belonged to Percy's worst enemy…


	12. A God Sent Masterpiece

**Description: For as long as Guinevere has worked in the castle she has thought of Prince Arthur as little more than a spoiled bully. Can one art lesson change the way she sees the once and future king? Rated mildly Mature for nudity :^)**

A God Sent Masterpiece

With a little soup and a lot of rest Gwen was officially over her dreadful cold. She had returned to the castle gallery, happily creating things in no time. Morgana was always insisting that Gwen add new pieces to the collection. The entire chamber was decorated with drawings, sculptures and paintings; most of which had been done by Gwen. The young serving girl perched on a stool in front of an easel. She rinsed her brush in a jar of cloudy gray water, flicked off the excess liquid, and chose a different color. Gwen blotted the canvas with green as she created another beautiful painting.

Morgana complained in a jovial manner as she poked her head in, "Why don't you ever draw, paint, or sculpt men? This room's full of vaginas."

Gwen glanced around at her collection of landscapes, still-lifes, and nude women. She laughed and explained herself, "My father never allowed me to have male models, only females. I don't paint men because I don't know how. I never got the practice."

Morgana offered, "Why don't you ask Arthur? He'll do it. He's comfortable with his body."

Gwen avoided Arthur most days. And just yesterday when Arthur complained about Merlin calling him an arrogant prat, Gwen did not reassure her prince that he wasn't. She just nervously looked away and made up a task to run off to. For this reason she feared their next encounter might be awkward.

Gwen replied, "I don't think he'll do it milady."

"Are you jesting," Morgana scoffed with a roll of her mint green eyes. "Arthur is the most cocky insufferable flirt. He'd be flattered if you asked him."

"I…I couldn't," Gwen stammered.

Morgana walked onto the gallery balcony and called down to the training grounds, "Arthur!"

"What!" Gwen heard him holler back with an attitude.

"Just come here!" Morgana called.

Gwen waived her hands nervously. "No, no don't. He's our prince."

"All the more reason for him to aide you in decorating his kingdom," Morgana replied.

Morgana informed Arthur as he jogged upstairs and entered the gallery, "Gwen wants to know if you'll pose nude for her. She has no practice drawing men. I'm sick of looking at just tits on the wall."

"Sure, I don't mind." Arthur said with a confident shrug. "I'll just get Merlin to help me out of my armor. MERLIN!"

"I can aide you sire," Gwen offered in order to bless her friend Merlin with just a small break from the royal prat. "I'm a blacksmith's daughter."

"Very well then," Arthur agreed.

Boy was Gwen right when she assumed their next encounter would be awkward. Gwen gave Morgana a please don't abandon me look. Morgana snickered and left the room in spite of Gwen's silent plea.

Gwen hesitantly began to unstrap and remove the armor from the crown prince of Camelot. She spoke nervously, "Thank you sire. I really appreciate you helping me with my art."

Arthur flirted in response to her obvious discomfort. "I'm not going to hurt you Guinevere, unless you ask me nicely."

Gwen's jaw dropped in shock, "You're impossible!" She quickly set up her easel and grabbed a hand full of pencils in a shaky fist

"Where do you want me?" Arthur asked.

She took a deep breath and instructed him as she readied her art supplies, "Close to the window, where the lighting is best."

Gwen finished arranging all her pencils, erasers, and charcoal. She heard a soft thump as Arthur's clothes hit the floor. She glanced up to find him standing before her in all his magnificent glory. _Well I can certainly see why he's comfortable with his body. I'm comfortable with his body too. I've got to get my head together and be professional. This man is sole heir to the throne of CAMELOT!_ She cast her eyes to the floor.

Arthur called to Gwen sarcastically, "Hey why are you blushing? You act as if you've never seen a naked man before. You might actually have to look at me in order to draw me."

Gwen blushed an even brighter shade of red, then covered Arthur's bottom half with a sheet.

She sat in front of her easel and stammered nervously, "Um… I think I'll just do the first sketch from the waist up. That should allow me some time to get use to this."

Arthur agreed and Gwen began to draw him.

"Hold still," She instructed him as she put line after delicate line on the paper.

She'd step back from time to time to look at the portrait, and then make a few more adjustments. Gwen lightened and shaded the picture until Arthur's image began to emerge. At the end of the first drawing Gwen gathered her nerve and approached Arthur. He towered over the tiny serving girl.

He looked down at her, gave her a coy smile. "I don't believe I ever apologized for the mishap yesterday. I insulted your food while under the impression that Merlin made it; which is why he called me an arrogant prat. It was rude of me."

_Is he actually apologizing! _Gwen glanced out the window and looked for snow just to make sure hell hadn't frozen over. "It's no problem milord," she assured him as she reached for his sheet. "Servants cover for one another all the time. Mix ups are bound to happen."

He smiled softly. "For what it's worth I honestly thought the chicken was delicious. I was just trying to give Merlin a hard time and insulted you by accident."

Gwen's cinnamon cheeks reddened at Arthur's flattery. She untied his sheet with trembling hands. It fell. She gasped as he caught it without using his hands. Gwen had no clue what she could've possibly done to arouse Arthur. Though it hadn't been her intention she still felt embarrassed about it. Her hands flew to her mouth. She spun around and cast her eyes to the floor.

Gwen called out in shock and mild humiliation, "Prince Arthur! I can't draw you like that!"

"Why not? He just wants to show off for the picture," Arthur said with a wink.

Gwen chastised him, "This drawing is supposed to look artistic and beautiful, not sexual!"

"And why can't sex be artistic and beautiful? I'm naked in the presence of a pretty girl. What do you expect to happen?" Arthur called out in his own defense as he wrapped the sheet back around him.

She playfully scolded, "I'm a servant!"

"Does it look like I care," he replied.

"No but your father might."

At the reminder of the ever present barrier that lay between them Arthur forced the naughty thoughts of Gwen from his mind and then surrendered his sheet to the floor. She regained her spot at the easel and began to draw him.

He studied the chestnut brown of her eyes, the cute pout of her lips, the way her lavender gown looked as if it had been poured upon her body. She was truly a work of art, a God sent masterpiece. _I don't feel the least bit guilty about flirting shamelessly in the absence of my betrothed. Vivian had the option of staying at Castle Pendragon for the week. We could've gotten better acquainted, but she refused. Vivian has written Morgana several letters over the past few months. She's never taken the time to write me once, though I've written her on quite a few occasions. Vivian never even asks about me in any of the_ _letters she sends to Morgana. I understand how politically important this union is but how am I to wed a woman who detests me? Guinevere is kind and selfless, beautiful inside and out. More often than not lately my hand has crept beneath my covers at night to sinful thoughts of her. _

Gwen interrupts Arthur's fantasy as she informs him bashfully, "Sire you're doing it again."

"Sorry," Arthur spoke and cleared the erotic images of Gwen from his head.

_How am I not to be aroused by other women when my fiancée won't be with me physically or emotionally?_ _My thoughts of Vivian were adequate to turn me off for long enough for Guinevere to draw me a second time._ _Both women are beautiful but its Guinevere's soul that makes her lovelier than my betrothed. One morning I caught her as she was falling. It felt so natural holding her in my arms, like she was meant to be there. But now it's too late. It wouldn't make sense to pursue her. She's a chambermaid and I'm the crown prince of Camelot. It's a damn shame I'm more attracted to the serving girl who cleans Morgana's chamber, than the princess I'm engaged to be married to._

Arthur clothed himself just after Gwen finished the full nude drawing of him. Gwen looked on positively salivating. For some reason watching him put on his clothes was as steamy hot as him having them off.

He marveled at the portraits, "You're so very talented Guinevere. It's a remarkable likeness. You're a hell of an artist."

"Thank you Sire," She modestly accepted his compliments.

Arthur put an arm around her slender shoulders, "Now when will you strip for me?"

Gwen laughed out loud and shoved him, "Just when I was beginning to think you weren't a prat."

"Well that hardly seems fair." Arthur pouted.

Gwen shook her head disapprovingly and started helping him back into his heavy armor. She reminded her prince dutifully, "In case you've forgotten, you're engaged to the Lady Vivian"

"So is that a no?" Arthur questioned sarcastically.

"It's a hell no," Gwen snickered. _He is shameless! He almost had me fooled into believing he was decent. _"I will take your portrait to the frame shop tomorrow and mount it before week's end."

Arthur nodded, "Under what title."

Gwen mused fondly over the portrait of her dashing prince and dreamily called out a title, "_A God Sent Masterpiece._"

Arthur couldn't hide his elated grin, "Thank you for the compliment milady."

"Thank you for your time Sire."

As he clutched the doorknob he called back over his shoulder, "If you ever lack anything at all you need only ask Guinevere."

She humbly curtsied and blessed him with a sweet smile. Arthur left while she made little adjustments to his portrait.

Soon Gwen's art session commenced for the day so that she could better serve the Lady Morgana. Gwen put away her supplies and washed the charcoal from her hands. She sighed as the rain beat against the tall arched windows of the gallery. _I had been hoping to watch the rest of Prince Arthur's training but it must have been canceled due to the rain. _

Morgana walked into the gallery and Gwen spoke up at once, "I was just on my way, milady."

Morgana smiled and waved off the tardiness, "I think the storm is making everyone behave a little strangely."

"What do you mean by everyone?"

"Arthur actually canceled training," Morgana confessed. "He never does that. And when I asked him why he said he needed an audience with the king."

Gwen waited on pins and needles but didn't want to be too forward in inquiring the business of the crown prince. But if Morgana didn't tell her soon Gwen might have shaken the information out of her.

"Is everything alright," Gwen asked.

"Arthur's annulling his engagement to the Lady Vivian."

Gwen gasped, "Did he say why."

"Arthur said he's found another," Morgana shrugged. "A God Sent Masterpiece, according to him."

At that Gwen chewed her lip until it hurt in order to hide the stupid smile on her face. And when she lay down for bed that night Arthur was not the only one whose hand crept under the sheets…


	13. For the Love of a Druid Woman: Part 4

**Description: Percival makes a heroic attempt to save his innocent young wife from burning at the stake. Can their love endure or will the bonds of hatred and intolerance prove too powerful? Warning, very long chapter :^)**

For the Love of a Druid Woman: _Part 4 Judgment Day_

After much fighting and struggling I managed to work my thin hands out of the heavy iron shackles. Merlin has man hands and isn't so lucky. Before I can rise to check on Merlin a cloaked figure looms high above, at the rim of the pit.

"Hello… Hello, help us please!" I desperately implore.

A white object falls from the sky and I run over to receive it. Thank god! Someone has taken pity on us. The delicious aroma envelopes me before I can even unwrap the napkin. Inside the bundle I find a couple pieces of fish rolled in cornmeal and deep fried, a barely suitable apple, and a sweet square of cornbread: slave food… Gwen. What a brave and selfless girl to risk her neck for another. This meal may very well save my life and that of my cell mate. I cross the pit to get to Merlin. I'm already eating with ravenous desperation as I walk. My stomach has shrank by such an alarming measure that I fill up after eating very little.

"Open up Merlin," I coax him.

Half conscious, he grunts and turns his head away.

"We have food Merlin!" At those words his lips part just a little and I work them the rest of the way open with a piece of seasoned fish.

He chews slowly and eventually manages a swallow. I feed him as much as he can take and within the hour he begins to perk up. He's even able to stand for a small spell and circulate his blood. I can tell by the bluishness of his lips that he is still having difficulty breathing, but at least now he has a full belly and the juices in the apple will keep his dehydration at bay.

He's giving me his infectious Merlin grin: an inquisitive glimmer in his eyes, "So what happened next?" He questions in a shallow wispy voice.

I snicker, "Merlin."

"Seriously, I want to know," he crows, and I can tell he's eager to find out if I ever got the opportunity to consummate my union with Percy.

I smile shaking my head a hue of crimson rising in my cheeks, "If you insist Merlin…"

Percival returns from his midnight swim, all wet and shirtless and beautiful. His large manly feet tracking watery footprints over the floorboards as he closes the distance between us. His lips meet mine in a chaste but loving kiss. Then with a few waves of his hands he apologizes for nearly breaking his promise.

I assure him with a teasing caress of his powerful chest, "I wouldn't have complained."

His handsome face brightens in a small laugh and before we can nestle into bed I hear a knock at the door. My heart pounds. Whoever could it be at this time of night? Percy and I answer to find his parents. We invite them in feeling extremely concerned.

Before I can offer them tea and biscuits Diane announces with a gigantic smile, "We're so sorry for the inconvenient hour but this wonderful news could not wait."

Deacon speaks in his baritone, his face smiling at us, "Deputy Mordred just granted us a stipend of land. We're leaving this estate tomorrow to forge our own."

We jump for joy and hug his parents. We share pleasant conversation over a spot of tea. I listen in sort of a trance as they invite us to build a home on their property at the end of my indenture sentence. I'm happy but it seems too good to be true. As Percival nervously takes my hand I can tell that he has the same concerns but we congratulate them and hide our skepticism until they're gone.

Percival promptly signs to me after his parents leave, "Why would a man who hates me issue a land grant to my parents, and out of the blue no less? This was no favor. I've saved a little money. In a few days we should make a run for it. Something's wrong. I just know it."

I'm scared to run away. The very thought of it gives me chills and puts a lump in my throat the size of my fist. But my husband is a pious Christian man and his religion is one of faith. A man must have faith in his god and a woman must have faith in her man. Though I love Percy with all my heart, can I trust him with all my soul…

xXx

Over the next few days, tension rose between Percival and me. We stole moments behind the grain barn and behind the trees at the riverbank. We think about making love all the time. I wake up on this particular morning fighting the urge to climb on top of him. He releases a sleepy groan and covers my face and neck with lazy kisses. Why must everything he does feel so good to me?

I tell him reluctantly, "It's time to report to work and you're not making it easy for me."

He nearly curses as we are forced to leave one another's embrace. Duty calls.

I enter the kitchen and start on breakfast as I always do. That's when I glance out the window. Governor Cenred and his oldest son are having a really big fight. Anger and bitterness has risen between the two of them. There's a storm brewing and I have no clue just how big. Their fight turns physical. They start pushing, shoving, throwing fists.

I bolt to the dining hall, "Master Lancelot! Your brother and father are fighting!"

Lancelot springs from the table. He bolts outside. I watch from the kitchen as he and the overseers run to break up the fight. Governor Cenred's face is swollen and bruised. Mordred has blood pouring from his brow. I stand horrified. What could possibly make them do this to each other?!

I perform my duties for the next few hours completely on edge. It seemed to take forever for break to arrive. I run into my husband's arms at the sound of the bell.

He holds me for a while, and then signs, "What's troubling you?"

I confess, "This morning. I saw Deputy Mordred and his father beating the hell out of one another."

Percival nods, "I'm going to do this one last job tonight and then we're escaping to freedom in the morning."

"Percy!" I gasp. "I don't want to become a fugitive by welching on my last four years of indenturement. If caught I'll be imprisoned! Upon release my original sentence will be doubled!"

He signs, "I have been working night and day to earn the money to buy out your contract, the money to free you!"

I gush at his chivalry, "Is this why you've been missing our lunches together?"

He nods and kisses my cheek sweetly. Then he solemnly signs, "Even with all that I do I will not have gained the means to buy your freedom for a year. I love you Morgs. I can no longer allow you to work for a man who would harm you just to punish me."

"I have an obligation to complete my sentence."

"I have an obligation to protect my bride."

He pulls me into his strong embrace and kisses me with the intensity of a thousand burning suns and I pledge upon my soul in that instant to join hands with this man, clench my eyes, and take a leap of faith…

xXx

By dinner time Deputy Mordred is acting very strange. I jump and nearly drop the plates as I notice him in the kitchen.

He tells me with a cold expression, "Grab a bottle of white wine from the cellar."

"Yes Sir, right after I serve the appetizers," I inform him.

Deputy Mordred snatches the plates, "Now!"

I nod and do as I'm told. He's being so peculiar that I don't want to get what he gave his father earlier. By the time I come back the plates are already taken. Mordred returns to the kitchen. My blood turns cold as I see the deranged expression on his face. I can smell the nauseating sweet odor of whiskey from clear across the room. He is stinking drunk and in a rotten mood. This doesn't bode well for me.

Before I can draw a breath to ask him what he needs, I feel his hand grip my throat. The back of my head collides with the wall hard enough to crack the wood. I choke back a painful cry knowing that will only get me brutally hurt before anyone can respond to my scream. My whole being trembles in fear and repulsion as he kneels to sweep up my skirts. Tears streaming down my face, I focus my eyes on the hearth, the pans, anything but this monster.

He thumbs the waist band of my pantaloons and whispers menacingly. "Most days I want to take what's his because he stole what was mine."

His hands slide around my hips. He grips the back of me hard and pins me further against the wall. I eyeball a large kitchen knife, and reach slowly for it. Then I stop. They'll hang me for killing this officer even in self-defense. My face is soaked from my crying. My throat is raw. He's going to rape me and there's nothing I can do.

"Sir, please don't do this. Please," I implore him.

He grins "Do you fear me Morgana? Everyone seems to fear me."

I keep silent. Any answer I give will get my face punched in. I don't want to die for killing him, but I don't want to live for sake of being his whore. Before my common sense can catch up with my hand, I have the razor sharp cleaver in my grasp. Mordred may take this body but not before I drench it with his blood.

"Whoa, let's not be hasty," Mordred speaks as his eyes fall upon the weapon in my trembling hand. He backs away, "My apologies Madam. I thought we had a... connection. I guess I was wrong."

"Very wrong," I inform him dryly, still gripping the cleaver.

He attempts to lighten the mood as if nothing has happened. "Does that thing cut through bone?"

My eyes pointedly drop to his crotch and back up again. "This tool chops off all sorts of bones."

"You're dismissed," He speaks quickly. "Take the rest of the evening off."

I nod and run from the kitchen with tears pouring down my face. I make it home with my sides splitting, gasping to catch my breath. Thank god we're running away soon. Percival is right. Something is terribly wrong.

I take a deep breath and pull myself together. Deputy Mordred was only scaring me because he was drunk and he dislikes my husband. Mordred always carries a pistol in a holster on his belt. If he truly wanted to harm me he would've done so. I won't tell Percy what Mordred did. That would only infuriate my husband which is exactly what Deputy Mordred was trying to accomplish. What cruel intentions Mordred has, to mess with Percival's head by letting him know that he could take my body anytime he chooses. Mordred is trying to bait my husband into attacking him so he'll have an excuse to lash, imprison, or even kill Percival with impunity. I refuse to allow that monster to win. I'm safe now and my husband will be home soon. And with the breaking dawn we'll be leaving this place forever.

I glance at all the days marked off the calendar. I smile and wipe my tears. Our special night has finally arrived, and I'm off early enough to prepare for it. I already made arrangements for Gwen to watch the boys, which made Arthur bubble over with joy. Even if Diane and Deacon were still here I wouldn't ask them. Because then they would know what me and their son was doing. I want to make this as least awkward as possible. We've waited so long for this night.

I fill the tub, two buckets at a time, with fresh water for a bath. It takes me numerous trips to the pond but at last the tub is full. I heat the water and pray it stays warm until Percival arrives. I freshen up and let my hair out of the bonnet. Percy loves my hair. I wrap my naked body in a towel, and tie a big red ribbon around it. Then I pour him a glass of homemade liquor, light a few candles, and wait for him to come home. Percival walks through the door and smiles brightly as he sees what I've done with the place. He motions with his finger for me to twirl around. I oblige him with a big smile. He puckers his beautiful lips and whistles. I can feel myself blushing.

He signs, "Sorry I'm late. I got so overwhelmed by this week's chaos I forgot about tonight."

"It's okay," I swear and help him undress.

He slips into the bath I made for him and I pass him the drink. He relaxes and allows me to wash his body and massage his muscles.

He bites his bottom lip with a lustful glare, and tugs playfully at the bow around my waist. "At what point do I get to un wrap the package?"

I assure him, "Whenever you're ready to."

"I was ready from the moment I saw you."

He climbs out of the tub, and lays me on the cool sheets just looking at me. As I feel him gingerly tugging the ribbon loose, my breathing becomes shallow and rapid. He bites his lip with a smolder in his eyes as he unwraps one side of my towel and then the other. I close my eyes to slow my breathing and I place my hands upon his shoulders guiding him on top of me. His body is warm and moist from the bath. Percy runs his fingers through my hair. He gently kisses my lips, my neck, and then my breasts and as he draws my nipple into his warm soothing mouth I can't recall a moment in my life I have ever felt so good.

I whisper, "Please make love to me."

Of course he wouldn't have heard me even if I'd yelled it. I want him to strip me of my innocence so bad, I can't help myself. I've never felt more ready.

I push him away for just long enough to say, "I want to become one with you. I love you Percival."

He smiles and signs, "I love you Morgana and though I have enjoyed having you as a bride, the time has come to make you my wife." Passion's flames burn throughout my body and my lips quiver in wanton need. But Percy wants to be certain so he signs once more, "I'm going to take you now if that's alright."

I nod without fear and our mouths meet in a smoldering kiss. I hold him close enough to feel his love and his warmth; the beat of his heart, the sound of his breath. I lie beneath him, skin upon skin, never breaking the kiss. I brace myself for the moment my loving husband will claim my body and make us one. My breath catches in my throat at the feel of his desire sliding into me. My every sense heightens tenfold as his manhood tears through the sensitive veil of my virginity and I gasp out of the kiss. My innocence is forever gone and I am his wife, his lover. He rises up on his elbows to look in my eyes and can tell that I am in pain, quite a bit of pain. He thumbs away a tear I hadn't realized I'd shed and I feel him shift his hips to withdraw from my sore and tender womanhood. My legs instinctively encircle his back without a command from my brain and I am breathless again as he slowly resumes his position deep inside of me. I've never felt such pain and yet I still don't want this loving connection to end. Is this natural instinct or am I just going crazy?

I adjust my pelvis to become comfortable with him inside of my body. Oh my god there is a person inside of my body! The very concept to me is extremely bizarre and at the same time so very beautiful. After a full minute of him lying as still as possible inside of me, lovingly kissing my face, and running his fingers through my sweat damp tresses; I start to relax, my muscles give a little, and I find myself thankful for that peculiar slipperiness. Percival's eyes innocently gauge my reaction as his hips move back and plunge forward again and again and again. My mouth gapes in pleasure. He is making me feel amazing with every stroke as my hands grip the muscles of his sweat laden back.

I was concerned by my wetness at first but as Percy's eyes drift shut and I can hear him moaning and grunting in ecstasy, I realize that our bodies knew exactly what to do even if we didn't. Our flesh loved one another at first sight. It just took 30 wonderful nights for our hearts to catch up. We sprawl about our marital bed sweating and kissing and mating with the passion of animals and we are completely and irrevocably in love.

I gasp in shock as he rolls us without warning until I am sitting as I was upon the saddle of that horse. This position has pushed him even further into me and I realize that like that night on the horse, he once again trusts me with the reigns. I don't know what I'm supposed to do and I feel nervous as his eyes devour my naked body in the candlelight. So I lay forward and rest my head upon his shoulder. His arms lovingly wrap around me and he sweetly kisses my head, his hand gingerly rubbing my hair and back as he thrusts gently up into me. His every in and out motion makes me moan wantonly and pleasure pours over ever inch of my body. I never want it to end. I boldly rise and move my hips upon the hard bones of his pelvis. I am free and unafraid. I place my hands on his chest to balance myself as I ride the swing of his hips. His hands are all over me as he bucks upward to meet my movements, his face locked in a determined glare as he kneads my supple mounds with his hands. The pressure rises from deep within me and I beg him to stop but I think he's trying to make me have that sinful feeling I had that night on the horse.

"It's okay," He mouths silently. At his words and the pleasure of our colliding pelvises I cry out my sin and collapse upon my husband's strong chest.

With another roll he is once more atop me thrusting between my thighs with a desperation I'd never witnessed in him. His strokes become sporadic in depth and speed. I'm not sure what's happening to my Percy. He falls upon my breasts gasping, and I can feel his heart racing, and his desire is thumping inside of me as if it has a heart of its own. What have I done?! I fear he's hurt and I cry his name with concern but of course he cannot hear me. I hold him close with tears in my eyes hoping, praying that everything is fine. Once his breathing slows he pulls his manhood out of me, kissing me sensually as he disengages. He rolls onto his back with a lazy smile and a look of utter relief and love. I smile too and breathe a sigh of relief. He's okay. Boys must have a similar reaction to making love as girls. I notice something streaming from the tip of his manhood, which is still erect and thumping. Boys must have a similar wetness too.

I blush a dark crimson as passion fades and I recall the manner in which I've behaved: lusty, wanton, and sinful.

He wipes my nectar from his curls with a damp cloth and I likewise freshen myself. He signs with eyes full of concern, "What's wrong Morgana?"

"I'm embarrassed," I admit with tears in my eyes.

And for the first time ever Percival curses his religion of birth for making me feel this way, "Please don't be embarrassed. I wanted to please you."

I pull away from him as my humiliation turns to anger, "Why does it matter if I enjoy it?!"

"Because it makes you happy and I made a vow to do everything in my power to keep you that way." Percival carefully and lovingly kisses the top of my head and I can feel my guilt and humiliation melting away with the warmth of his love.

My very heart smiles at his words and I raise my face to him. We kiss slowly, like we're savoring a delectable desert. As he releases me I have that same momentary dizziness of the first kiss we shared. I am once again taken, captivated, bewitched. We lay back in bed dreamily tracing one another's naked skin with our fingertips, smiling and musing and fawning over each other, in a paradise of our own. I rest my head upon the mighty muscular canvas of his chest, taking in the sound of his breath, every beat of his powerful heart.

I am shocked senseless as Percy makes audible words for the first time since he lost his hearing at the age of twelve. His words are a little distorted but no less meaningful as he places my hand over his pounding heart, "Morgana my heart beats for you. I live for you."

I raise my head from his chest so he can read my lips as I give him the same vow and we wipe away each other's tears of happiness and love. This was the only time I ever saw Percival cry.

xXx

I open my eyes quite a bit later, a smile flits across my face at the wonderful soreness in my nether regions. It's a beautiful reminder that Percy has not only made me a woman but a wife. I reach for my love but my hand falls upon an empty bed and my eyes glance over to find a vase full of fresh cut flowers and a note.

_Morgs,_

_I wanted you to have something beautiful to look at when you awakened. How does it feel to at last be a wife? Though I enjoyed being your groom, nothing felt more incredible to me than becoming your husband tonight._

_p.s._

_I went to check on Arthur and Gwaine. I'll be right back. _

_Love Percy _

Oh Percival, the next time you yearn for my eyes to awaken to beauty just leaves yourself in my bed. I kiss his note and before I can lay it down, before I get a second to smell the beautiful vase of flowers he's left on my bedside table, I hear my front door burst open without warning. Before I can don my clothes and get to the living room. Two Puritan officers violate the sanctity of my marital bedroom, grim expressions on their faces. I scream. I clench the sheet over my naked breasts. The two men march to the center of the room revealing Deputy Mordred in the doorway. The other men stand stiffly, their expression set as Mordred strides into the room. His boots clonking heavily on my floorboards.

"Out with you all now!" I scream. "My husband is not here!"

"We are not here for your husband," Mordred announces.

Alarm is prevalent in my voice as I cry, "I don't understand. What business have you with me?!"

Mordred ignores my question and begins to fling the drawers from my dresser. The other men grab me and wrap my body in the sheet. My vase of flowers, Percy's gift to me, is knocked to the floor. It explodes into a million shards of glass, scattered petals, and broken stems.

"What are you looking for?!" I scream furiously as he breaks and tramples my things without care.

"Proof," Mordred finally breathes.

"Proof of what?!" I demand. He bends low to retrieve my tribal skirt from the floor. He pulls my tie on top from his pocket. "Looks like a perfect match."

The officers gasp at the sight of such inappropriate body wear. Mordred bends low to retrieve a small black bag. He walks quickly over to the dresser. Turns the bag over spilling its contents onto the finished wood. There are feathers, dried roots, and glass vials of lavender extract.

Mordred's lips spread in an unpleasant smile, "Gentlemen we have our proof."

"Proof of what?!" I demand as they clap me in irons. Slaves are spewing from their homes as I'm dragged through to commons.

"You cannot do this!" I scream, fear chocking my throat. "I've done nothing wrong!"

xXx

I'm first thrown in the torch lit prison. It reeks of mold and old urine. My bunk is a pile of straw which field mice and spiders scamper in and out of. Not that I'd sleep anyway. Who could possibly sleep while awaiting an execution? I jump to my feet as Percival approaches. He kisses me through the bars and wipes my tears.

He signs, "I'll bring you a dress so you won't have to stand here in a sheet."

I nod and kiss him again, "Deputy Mordred believes you stole something from him. Do you have the slightest idea what he could be talking about?"

Percival shrugs with a look even more clueless than my own.

I scream as Deputy Mordred walks passed, "Sir what was my offense!"

He doesn't answer or even look at me. He just keeps walking.

Percival runs up, passes him a letter, "Sir I know you've never liked me. Whatever you're planning to do to my wife, please punish me instead. Morgana is new. I'm certain she didn't mean to offend you. Whatever she's done, please take it out on me."

Percy reads Mordred's lips as he says, "Not only have I discovered proof that your wife is a witch, my father was poisoned tonight. He's dead. As the cook Morgana is the main one with access to his food."

"I'm sorry about your father, but my Morgs didn't do this," Percy writes.

Percival's jaw drops as Deputy Mordred says, "I know Morgana didn't kill him. I did, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to spend the rest of my life in prison for it. It's nothing personal but I need you to walk away from this Percival. If you overreact the Magistrate will start sniffing around. I can't have that. I'm willing to grant you a land contract and a nice severance package if you keep your mouth shut."

"I can't!" Percival frantically writes. "The authorities will kill her for what you've done!"

"Don't pretend to be emotional," Deputy Mordred replies. "I know you've only been married to Morgana a month. You barely know the girl. Hell my father forced you to marry her. I did right by your parents so you'd have faith I was telling you the truth by the time this happened. Take the money and leave my property. What could be more important to a poor man than money?"

Percival promptly writes, "My wife! And you're wrong. Your father didn't choose her, I did. I married Morgana because my heart demanded me to. I will not watch my wife burn!"

Percival storms away. Deputy Mordred is approached by one of the officers.

The tall bearded man says, "That's one disgruntled servant. We should detain him until after we've dealt with that unholy witch who murdered your father."

Mordred laughs. "Relax I know Percival's not willing to throw away his only shot at wealth over a girl he barely knows. Who would?"

Mordred's younger brother Lancelot stomps over. His eyes are red with anger. The veins on his temples are prevalent.

Lancelot shouts for the prison guards to leave then questions his brother with a skeptical glare, "Why did you offer Percival a land grant? We both know you hate him! What the hell is going on?"

"If Percival starts raving about his wife being unjustly put to death, there may be an uprising," Mordred explains. "We could have a mutiny on our hands. I feel bad for the man, but his wife is a witch and she murdered our father."

Tears fill Lancelot's eyes. "Are you certain Morgana did this? It seems so unlike her."

Mordred hugs him. "She's only been with us a month. We don't know what she's really like. Her last owners got rid of her for a reason."

Lancelot pleads, "Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe father was forcing himself on her. You heard what he said at the breakfast table, about her performance in bed."

"Even still, Morgana is indentured and far below the station of a governor born of noble blood. She doesn't have the right to defend herself. I'm sorry Lancelot but I must uphold the law."

Lancelot walks away devastated by his grief. Mordred signals to the prison guards. Three of them come jogging over.

He orders, "Arrest my brother. If anyone is going to hinder this execution it'll be that big baby."

"We can't just arrest Lancelot without charge," The head guard protests.

"I'm in charge now! Do what the hell I told you before he sets my father's murderer free!"

xXx

_Judgment Day_

The courthouse walls were lined with fiery torches which threatened to blow out every time the wind whipped through the cracked windows. Puritan men in tall buckled hats and women in baggy white bonnets filled every pew to the point that some were left standing. All waiting for the gavel of judgment to crush the witch who'd so callously murdered their governor. Magistrate Sarrum sat behind the judge's podium in lengthy black robes and a white ceremonial wig that was like a cascade of powdered curls.

With Lancelot arrested, my mother and father in law away, and all my blood relatives dead, the only ones who spoke up for me at trial were Dr. Gaius, because he's a man of logic, and the widow VanDeWiele, a ninety year old woman who'd come over on the original Mayflower. Percy didn't come, knowing full well that all the witch trials ended the same way every time Magistrate Sarrum resides over them. Percy couldn't bear to watch.

A gust of wind suddenly blew the door open. A confused little bat fluttered in. Sarrum pointed accusingly at me and swore I had conjured the animal. Every superstitious jackass in the courtroom was gasping in agreement. Mordred presented my ceremonial attire and called me a Jezebel and a temptress. Sarrum nodded in agreement swearing that I was a witch who'd enticed him to sin as well. That pervert forced me to fondle him against my will and then blames me for his lust! The pews of villagers were hanging on Magistrate Sarrum and Deputy Mordred's every word as they spoke of the peculiar black sack Mordred pulled from my draw. They swore the contents were for conjuring evil spirits and the glass vials were full of poison. They said I'd used said poison to murder Governor Cenred.

The widow VanDeWiele explained on my behalf, "Morgana is of Druid descent, that attire is perfectly appropriate for her culture. I know this because I too was born a Druid. She didn't mean to offend."

Gaius Rose next, "As for the bag you found Deputy Mordred, that was a wedding gift to Morgana and Percival, from our Wampanoag allies. Roughly translated its referred to as the new parent packaged. The dried herbs and roots are for medicinal purposes such as treating diaper rashes, breaking fevers, and soothing soar gums while baby is teething. The vials of liquid were merely extract of lavender. A natural soothing agent commonly used by the natives for bathing a fussy child."

Magistrate Sarrum stares me down as I sit in the box at the front of the court, "Is this true?"

"Yes your honor," I vow. "Percival was concerned about fevers because he got severely ill at the age of twelve. He survived the sickness but the flaming fever it caused forever robbed him of his hearing. The Indian's gave us natural means to treat such a fever so this doesn't happen to our children."

"I see," Sarrum said.

I breathed a sigh of relief at last.

"Morgana!" Sarrum bellowed. "Your inability to confess your guilt has only provided further proof that you are a liar, a murderer and a witch! You are here by sentenced to rot in the witch's pit until you are burned at the stake until dead. May god have mercy on your soul and allow you through his gates."

Sarrum slams the gavel and crushes my hope along with it. Gasps and scattered conversations break out amidst the crowd. The officers drag me down the center aisle of the courthouse. I fight viciously, punching , clawing, biting. A series of deafening booms alerts the crowd. The courtroom fills with thick pungent smoke. Everyone is panicking. Screaming about dark magic. They scramble blindly for a way out. I swiftly knee one officer in the groin. Forcefully chop another in the throat. Then I break free and lose them amidst the screaming and the chaos. But I cannot see more than five feet in front of me. A hand grabs me. I scream and prepare to defend myself but its Percival. My eyes fill with tears and I don't know if its from happiness or the burning awful gasses consuming the meeting house. My guess, it's a bit of both. He embraces me and pulls me to the floor. He puts a finger to his lips and beckons me to follow. We crawl on hand and knee until we find an exit. I gasp greedily sucking the clean air into my lungs. I'm both horrified and confused as my eyes fall upon all the horses that are laid out all over town.

"Their only sleeping," Percy signs as we run to the only two horses left standing.

He gives me a letter which I read as fast as I am running:

_Dr. Gaius helped me drug the horses while everyone was at your trial. Gwen already took the boys to the Wampanoag and they've agreed to harbor us._

Thank god. My first good news in a long time. Gasping choking officers at last find their way out. Bullets just narrowly miss us. Percival helps me onto my horse and then flings himself onto his. We gallop away as they continue to fire muskets and pistols at us. Muzzle flare brightening the night sky as we flee for our lives. Mordred swallows a curse, throws his hat in the dirt and stomps it as he realizes he cannot chase after us. His steed, along with all the others, is incapacitated.

Percival and I ride hard. Galloping at full speed for the better part of an hour. We see the Indians' smoke signals and we smile with relief. We're nearly there. We are close, so very close, when agony surges across my back. Pain rips through my body. I cry out as I go hurdling down from my horse. I hit the ground hard enough to bounce and roll. I scream in greater horror as I see Percival on the ground too. Both of our steeds galloping away without us. I fear we've been shot until I see Sophia looming over me with a golden cape and a long walking staff. The blue orb on the end of her staff is glowing with charges of electricity zipping through it. Percival crawls toward me on his elbows, far too badly hurt to stand. Sophia zaps him again with her magical staff. He is unable to swallow the agonizing scream as he falls flat on his belly. My tears pour as I beg her not to harm him but all she does is smirk with bitterness. Despite his pain and delirium Percy reaches out to me. We join hands finding a modicum of comfort in each other's warmth. With another blast of magic from Sophia, Percival and I are knocked completely unconscious. I wake up hours later chained to a wall in a pit, praying my husband wasn't killed...

xXx

I look over in the stone pit to find Merlin choking back soft sobs.

"What's wrong with the world that human beings are so very cruel to one another," Merlin asks.

"I don't know," I wipe his tears with my bonnet. I'm a condemned witch. I doubt I'll be judged any harsher for showing my hair to a man not my husband.

Merlin stands, "The time for tears has ended Morgana. You must conjure the strength within to break my shackles. Break them and I can help us escape."

"I can't," I confess with tears streaming. "I am no witch. That was merely a lie Mordred told."

"You have power Morgana. I can feel it."

"I am powerless Merlin! I am no witch! If I had powers don't you think I would have used them by now?!"

Merlin looks me straight in the eye, "I know you have powers because you would not have been able to communicate with a dead man if you did not."

I shudder and back away in confusion, "Your illness has made you delirious Merlin."

"No," He confesses. "I came over on the Mayflower 70 years ago. The widow VanDeWiele was my beloved wife Freya. She speaks up for every condemned witch because of what happened to me."

I shake my head feverishly, "No… No… NO!"

"I died in this pit sixty years ago. And I've been trapped to die over and over again. This godforsaken hell hole that serves as your prison likewise serves as my purgatory. That's how I know you have power Morgana, because you are a medium: the most powerful of witches. When everyone else saw a pile of lifeless bones in the corner you and you alone saw a man."

I understand already why Merlin didn't reveal until now that he was dead. My determination to save his life gave me the strength to wiggle free from my shackles. A witch cannot use her magic as long as her wrists are bound. Telling him my story reminded me of Arthur, Gwaine, Percy and everyone I love. And love is the strongest power in the universe. By love and love alone I will break the bonds of my friend Merlin's oppression and free him of this purgatory. By Percival's love and Merlin's faith I conjure all of the energy within me as I direct my hands toward the shackles that have bound Merlin's tortured soul for sixty years. The wind begins to whirl around us like a cyclone. I can feel the heat burning in my eyes.

"You're right Merlin. The time for tears is over," I vow as a glowing red ball begins to form before my palms. "It's season of the witch…"

**This was supposed to be complete in four segments but as it stands there is going to be a fifth. So I hope you stick around for the fifth installment entitled: _Season of the Witch._ Thank you for reading and reviewing! :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


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